“For you to be happy,” I answer, giving her a faint smile. “Are you? Happy?”
She sighs. “Today was one of the best days I’ve had since…well, you know.”
“And that’s all it has to be,” I say. “There doesn’t need to be any pressure, okay? We had a good day as a family with a couple new people we really like.”
She takes a deep breath. “Yes. Okay. You’re right.”
I turn the knob on the radio. “You need something else to focus on. How about some Christmas music?”
“Oryou could tell me more about Oliver.”
“What do you want to know?” I glance out the window nonchalantly, as though I’m not bursting at the seams.
“Just one thing, really,” she says, pinning me with her gaze. “Are you going to give this thing between you and Oliver a chance?”
I open my mouth to answer, but she keeps talking.
“Because he’s such a great guy, Lindsey. He’s everything I could have ever dreamed of for you and more. He’s kind and thoughtful and brave. And not just in the obvious runs-into-burning-buildings sort of way. He got up on that stage because he knew I didn’t want to. He did that for me, and I’ve seen how he is with you. So tender and gentle and?—”
“Mom.”
“Sorry.” She holds out her hands, pumping the breaks on her own thoughts. “Anyway…are you? Going to give this a shot?”
I twist my lips and wait, as though I need even a second to consider it. As though my heart isn’t firing off like a confetti popper.
“Well?” she asks again.
“I am,” I answer finally.
“I knew it,” she screeches, her feet dancing against the floorboard. “Oh, I’m so glad. He really is a sweetheart, and he clearly knows what a catch you are.”
“There’s something else,” I say, holding up my finger. “But you have to promise you’re not going to freak out if I tell you.”
She squeals. “Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“Right. Yes.” She shakes out her shoulders and releases a slow breath. “All right. I’m not going to freak out.”
“Oliver told me he’s not seeing anyone else.”
“Really?” She presses her hand to her chest, trying to contain herself. “And what did you say?”
“I told him I’m not seeing anyone, either.”
“Really?” This time, the question comes out as a squeak.
I chuckle and roll my eyes. “Oh fine. Go on. Let it out. You know you want to.”
And she does, loudly shrieking her excitement. “I feel good about this, Lindsey,” she says. “And your father would have too. He would have liked Oliver.”
My chest constricts, and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “You think so?”
“I do.”
I blow out a breath, a smile tugging on my lips. “We had a good day today.”
“A damn good day.” She places her hand on my knee and gives it a squeeze. I flinch, and her eyes crease with concern. “Oh no, sweetheart. Your fibro is acting up, isn’t it?”
