Romano's is a family-run Italian restaurant on a tree-lined street in the center of town. White tablecloths, candles in wine bottles, a brick oven visible through the kitchen door. Logan reserved a private table in the back room — a space separated from the main dining area by a half wall and a curtain.
We arrive at eleven-forty-five. The restaurant is quiet. A waitress shows us to the back room. The table is set for eight — Logan and me, Mom, George and Cat, Dom and Sarah, and Nolan, who flew in from Florida this morning.
“You mobilized the entire Shaw family,” I say to Logan while I twirl a napkin.
“I mobilized the people who matter.”
My mother arrives at eleven-fifty-five. She walks in wearing a navy dress with tiny gold earrings and her best coat over her arm. She looks beautiful and formidable. I love her so much my chest hurts.
She hugs me first, long and tight, her hand on the back of my head. Then she turns to Logan. They look at each other for a long moment.
“Mrs. Bennett,” Logan says.
“Lorraine,” she corrects him. “If you're going to date my daughter, you're going to call me by my name.”
The corner of Logan’s mouth curves with a smile. “Lorraine.”
She studies his face. “You’ve grown up since I saw you last.”
“In more ways than one,” he assures her.
Mom sits down beside me. She puts her purse on the floor and her hands flat on the table and looks around the room. “Nice restaurant. Good choice.”
“Thanks,” Logan says.
Dom and Sarah arrive next. Dom hugs Mom and introduces Sarah. Mom takes Sarah's hand in both of hers and says, “I've heard wonderful things about you, sweetheart,” and Sarah's face lights up.
I want to cry because my mother just gave Dom's fiancée the warmth that Cat has never given her.
Nolan bursts through the door two minutes later. He hugs everyone, shakes Mom's hand, compliments her dress, and immediately starts examining the menu.
Then George and Cat walk in.
The room shifts. Mom's hand finds mine under the table.
Cat is in a cream coat and a silk scarf, and her hair is perfect. Her expression is the one I've seen a hundred times — pleasant, composed, giving nothing away. George is beside her in a blazer and slacks, his shoulders back, his face unreadable.
Logan walks to them, hugs his mother, and shakes his father's hand. He brings them to the table.
“Mom, Dad, this is Lorraine Bennett, Jasmine's mother.”
The moment hangs in the air. Mom stands up and extends her hand. “Cat, it’s nice to meet you.”
Mom takes it. “It's nice to meet you, Lorraine.”
“Please, sit down,” Logan says.
Everyone sits. Logan is at the head of the table, and I’m right beside him.
The waitress comes. Orders are placed, and wine is poured. The first five minutes are painful — stilted small talk about the restaurant, the weather, and Nolan's flight.
Then Logan speaks.
“I asked everyone here today because I'm tired of pretending. Jasmine and I love each other. We've loved each other since we were teenagers, and we spent ten years apart because the adults in our lives pulled us in different directions.”
He looks at Cat, then at Mom. “Both of you were trying to protect your child. I get that. But the protection turned into walls, and the walls kept Jasmine and me apart for a decade. I'm not blaming anyone. I'm asking for something different going forward.”
He reaches under the table and takes my hand. “I'm not asking you to be best friends. I'm asking you to try. For us.”
