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Sage glanced between us, her expression uneasy. But this kind of discomfort would happen the longer we stayed. Unless we had a reckoning or my mom underwent a complete personality transplant. And I wouldn’t let my daughter see me back down from a moment like this.
My mom fumbled a bit under my directness, which was understandable because we never laid shit out on the table. It was done in loaded judgmental silences and passive-aggressive comments. It was done in the frustrated slam of a door when I was a bit younger and crying to my best friend because I couldn’t understand why it was so hard for them to take me as I was.
“I’m almost thirty-five, and what?” I asked. “Still unmarried? You betcha. I do myself no favors. I do Sage no favors by marrying someone simply because my biological clock is ticking too loudly for you.” I leaned forward. “Mom, I am glad that you found the life that works for you, but can’t you understand that that’s what I’m trying to do, too? Just because it’s different from yours doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
My mom’s eyes lingered on mine, a disbelieving shake to her head. “You’re living with a man who isn’t your husband, Harlow. How do you think that looks? How on earth will you have the chance to find anyone that way? Ian’s always been rude. Unfriendly. That’s doing you no favors.”
A stunning flash of angry heat curled my bloodstream, and in the moment I sucked in a sharp breath, filtering through all the many colorful words I wanted to spit at her to keep his fucking name out of her mouth, my daughter beat me to the punch.
She stood from the table, her hands clenched in tight fists.
“Don’t say that about him,” she said fiercely, her cheeks flared red and her eyes hard as I’ve ever seen them. “Ian’s my friend. He’s Mom’s friend. And he takes care of us. All the time.”
It felt like my heart was outside my body, watching her defend the man who’d always meant so much to me. Who I knew so well, past all the unfriendliness everyone else saw and judged him for. My eyes filled with hot tears, and I blinked frantically, trying to keep them back.
My mom’s face went slack with shock. “Sage, honey, this is a conversation for the adults.”
“Then why are you having it in front of the kids?” my nephew asked. Rachel speared him with a stern look, and he sank an inch into his seat.
Sage remained standing, her entire body rigid. My chest ached, and I wanted to pull her into my arms and hold her tight until she softened again.
My mom didn’t seem to be having the same struggles, and she tried to assert a little bit of control over the situation. “I’ve known Ian Wilder a lot longer than you have, Sage, and I’m allowed to have an opinion on him.”
Slowly, I stood, tossing my napkin onto the table.
“You’re allowed an opinion,” I said, voice low, positively brimming with warning, “but you don’t get to speak this one in front of me.”
Sage came around the table and gripped my hand. “Or me. Maybe you should try to be more like him, Grandma. Maybe Mom wouldn’t have moved us into his house if you were.”
The room pulsed with thick silence, weighted down with enough subtext to choke a horse. I tightened my fingers around Sage’s. “Why don’t you go wait outside, kiddo. I’ll be right there.”
When she looked up at me, dammit, she looked proud. Of herself, and maybe me too.
“I’m ready to go home,” she whispered.
I cupped the side of her face and smiled. “We will.”
She gave a sad little wave to her cousins and gave my dad a brief hug. My mom sat in her chair, a hand covering her mouth as Sage picked up her shoes and went outside to put them on.
“I don’t know why my friendship with him bothers you so much,” I said quietly. “Maybe it makes you feel insecure because I’ve always needed him so much more than I ever needed you. Or maybe it’s like Dad said and the things I want terrify you, and you don’t know how to deal with it.”
My mom’s eyes snapped over to my dad’s, and he merely gave her an inscrutable look.
“Figure out how to deal with it, Mom.” I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “The decisions I make for me and my daughter are not anything I need you to understand. But I won’t tolerate disrespect for those decisions, especially not in front of her. Because then you’ll make her question what’s wrong with the way we live, and if you do that, then you and I will have a much, much bigger problem.”
My mom’s frame expanded on a deep breath, and when she finally lifted her gaze from the table, I almost sank back into my seat when I saw a glimmer of remorse. But her mouth stayed shut, and her eyes dropped again. Rachel and her kids stayed silent, probably wishing like hell they’d been able to leave with Sage.
I set my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Sorry. I know you were trying, and I appreciate it.”
His jaw was tight, and he managed a slight nod.
Sage and I were in the car a few minutes later, driving back home. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “Am I in trouble for talking to Grandma like that? I know I’m supposed to respect my elders or whatever.”
I smiled. “Not in trouble with me. You remember what I told you about bullies, right?”
She nodded. “That if someone’s being mean to me or my friends, I’m allowed to stand up for them. And even if I get in trouble at school, I’ll never get in trouble at home.”
“That’s right.” I rolled my neck, a tension headache already starting to bloom behind my eyes. “There are countless reasons people act the way they do. And I don’t always understand why, especially on days like this. Your grandma was in the wrong. She shouldn’t have said what she said, and I hope she’ll realize that some day.” I reached over and squeezed her hand. “But I appreciate you standing up for Ian. You only have to apologize to Grandma if it would make you feel better.”
