Page 80 of The Promise

Without warning, the pad of his mother’s thumb came up to press at the knot forming in between Roman’s brow. An almost constant wrinkle that accompanied his unhappiness lately. Only one thing had caused the discontent.

Being without Karine.

“What’s that for?” Claire asked, pulling her hand away only once the knot was worked away. “All that worry for nothing, Roman. She’s perfectly fine, out on one of her walks with Michelle.”

Roman’s teeth clicked, his jaw tightening to mask how he breathed a sigh of relief. And still, he balanced on an edge, not quite content yet. He wouldn’t be okay until he actually saw her again. His heart had already made that quite clear.

“She sounds good—calm—on the phone when I call, but how has she really been?” he asked his mother.

“There’s progression in her everyday. It’s like she wakes up a little bit better each morning. Better with something—someone, even. She’s just ... much more confident in herself these days. Clear and levelheaded, less intimidated, too.” His mother patted his cheek with her warm palm, smiling softly. “Your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you when you called. She’s been okay.”

Roman couldn’t express the words to explain the relief he felt hearing that news, but he’d never really done well with managing his feelings before all this. He doubted that was going to change anytime soon.

All he’d wanted was for this to actually work for Karine.

This gave him hope. Most times, hope was nothing more than a useless lie, but he found himself leaning on it more often than not when it came to Karine. It’s all he ever did for her, now.

Hope that Karine had a future where she would be at peace—so she could be herself, content and happy. He was sure the lack of ever-present medications helped with her clarity, too.

“And what about ... have there been any episodes?”

He didn’t have to spell out what he meant. His mother knew exactly what he was talking about. Had Katina made an appearance—Katee, maybe?

Claire only shook her head, and that was all he needed to know.

The very fact that Katina hadn’t shown up in the time he was away felt like major progress, considering she certainly seemed to be the dominant alter with a penchant for protecting Karine from anything she deemed a threat.

Claire squeezed his hand, then, drawing his gaze back to hers. “I know everything is a bit of a mess right now, and you’re worried about her, but ...”

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before ... not about someone.”

Well ...

He cocked an eyebrow at his mother, unwilling to feed into her need to pry all the secrets from his mind that she possibly could. Claire laughed a playful chirp back, but didn’t once move her stare from Roman’s all the same.

She probably didn’t need him to spill his secrets, anyway. Didn’t a mother always know?

Still, she said to him, “Just go ahead and say it. At the very least, you can say it, can’t you?”

Could he?

Or better yet, did he want to?

Roman headed for the kitchen entryway the second he was able to slip from his mother’s hold, tempted to just bolt. This wasn’t a conversation he’d had before—not with anybody; not even with himself, really. He knew exactly what his mother implied, and he wasn’t ready to say the words.

Roman already had one foot out the door, and it would have been so easy to keep going, but he paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. Claire smiled at him indulgently, shaking her head like she knew what he was running from.

“It’s just me, Roman. If you can’t even tell me—your mother—how are you ever going to tell her?”

She had a point.

“I bet that’s what scares you the most, too,” his mom added. “Just saying it. Telling her.”

“Ma—”

Claire shrugged, not even giving him the chance to speak. “Remember when you were a boy, Rome, and I’d say night, my baby, I love you.” He blinked, still able to hear the soft call of his mother echoing through the crack in his bedroom door, the sliver of light illuminating Claire’s hand wrapped around the edge of the door to close it. But she waited—she always waited for him to say it, too—and the only sleepless nights he’d had as a kid were the ones that didn’t end like that. “It was easy back then ... I lived for those little I love you, toos. The sad thing is, being a mother means I can also still remember when it started to change.”