“We brought wine,” Lainey says cheerfully to Ann, holding out a bottle of red.
“Yes, so kind.” Ann looks it over. “We will try and save that for another time, it doesn’t go with the chicken I prepared tonight.” She takes the wine out of her daughter’s hands without another look, shoves it on a side counter, and moves to the oven.
Lainey visibly wilts.
“Mom, look.” Lainey tries again. “Remington brought something else for you, too.” She gives me a half smile as Ann turns back to us.
I give her my best smile and hold out the small bouquet of daisies. Ann’s eyes go wide, and she takes a visible step back, a hand going to her chest. “Wh-what’s this?” she asks me, genuine surprise and a flicker of real emotion taking over her face.
Maybe we are getting somewhere after all.
“I can’t show up to dinner empty-handed, my mother would never forgive me,” I tell her. “And I know how much Lainey loves it when I bring her flowers, so I thought that you might enjoy these.” I hold them out to her, kindly.
Ann looks at them for so long I am not sure she is going to take them.
“Mom?” Lainey prompts.
“Yes, well that was very nice of you. Very unnecessary, and a waste of your muchneededmoney, but thank you. They will look fine in the kitchen.” She rushes to the cupboard, looking for a suitable vase.
Lainey looks at me with pain in her gorgeous blue eyes. I know this is not going the way she wants it to. I know she is worried her mom’s behavior is going to change my opinion of her, but it doesn’t. It just makes me feel even more deeply for her, seeing what she has overcome. Seeing how she decided to be a different person than the examples she was given.
Sitting down to our meal doesn’t improve the mood. Ann keeps giving me uneasy glances from her seat at the head of the table. The conversation is awkward, stilted. She glares at my tattoos as if they are going to jump from my skin to hers, permanently marring her. It feels especially irritating to me knowing she is judging not only my ink but my own artwork—not that she knows that, not that it would matter.
“I cannot understand why you would do that to your hair, Lainey. It was so long and pretty.” Ann slices into her food and her daughter at the same time. Lainey is sad, uncomfortable, and the confidence she radiates daily is completely absent in the presence of this woman.
“I think that she looks stunning, no matter what she chooses to do to her hair,” I insist, cutting Lainey’s mother off before she can keep jabbing at her.
“So, Remerton,” Ann says directing her attention where I want it, and I try to not roll my eyes. “What do you do for work?”
“Well, Ann, my name is actuallyRem-ing-ton,” I correcther. I live in the South. I am not the first or last man with the name Remington. And I specifically told her to call me Rem, like everyone else. She is just being rude on purpose at this point.
“Of course.” She smirks at me. “My mistake.” She scoops a bite of overly salted veggie mix into her mouth.
“No problem, I usually have to meet people a few times before I get their names to stick, too.” I look across the table to Lainey, her cheeks pink with second-hand embarrassment, and wink at her. “I am a firefighter for the Fox Grove fire department,” I say answering her mom’s original question.
“Hmmm.” Ann looks to Lainey and then back to me. “Is that all?” she asks.
Lainey drops her fork with a clatter, gasps, and harshly whispers, “Mother!”
“What, Lainey? A lot of men kind of dabble in it, do that as a volunteer thing, not a career. I can’t imagine it provides a suitable livelihood.” She glances over at me and back at her daughter, as if she is going to exclude me from this conversation.
“Actually, I have been a full-time firefighter in Fox Grove since I graduated college with my degree in fire science.” Ann sucks in a tiny breath and reaches for her wine, wine we did not bring. “Yeah, it probably shocks you that I actually went to college and got a degree, but I did. I also am a fully certified EMT as well. I love my job, andmy livelihood, as you say, suits me just fine, Ann.” I level her with a hard stare, all of my warmth and friendly effort is obviously wasted on her, and I am done playing nice.
Ignoring me completely, she turns to Lainey. “Darling, do you really think this is a good idea?”
“What is a good idea, Mom?” Lainey asks, a cold steel hardening her eyes.
“Being with, with a man that has a job likethat?” shehisses. “It is dangerous, first of all. And it makes him untrustworthy, unreliable!” Her voice grows with each point she’s trying to make.
“Remington isexactlythe kind of man I should be with. He makes me happy, Mother! There is nobody that is as thoughtful or compassionate. He is the best man I know.” Lainey looks at me, eyes shining with tears.
Scoffing, her mother tosses her cloth napkin on the table next to her bland chicken. “That means nothing. This is new, he’s manipulating you, showing you what he wants you to see and then the rug will be yanked out, Lainey. Plus, everyone knows that the men in emergency services or the military are all cheaters.”
“The fuck!” I exclaim, not able to hold it in.
Lainey abruptly stands up, points a shaky finger at her mom and says, “How dare you? How dare you,” repeating herself with more confidence. “You don’t know the first thing about Remington. He is ahero. A man that sacrifices himself for others every single day, and I could not be more proud to be with him.” Her words make my chest ache, and my heart pounds. “He is a man that I happen to be crazy about, and I was excited to introduce you to him. All you have done fromthe secondwe got here was judge him, and I am done, Mom. Done!”
She rounds the table to where I’m seated. I stand up and take her shaking hand.
