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“Nope. Nooope.” I shook my head vehemently. “I am not discussing Darius or his big, Greek anything with you. Ever.”
Tilly clapped a hand to her chest. “I meant his bakery, Miller,” she said, all innocent horror. “His big, Greek bakery.”
I sputtered with laughter. “You did not!”
“Didn’t I?” Her eyes sparkled, and I felt a wave of affection for her crash over me.
She wasn’t perfect, just like my mom hadn’t been perfect, but she loved every bit as fiercely. A man could do a whole lot worse than to have someone like Tilly Marian in his court.
“I owe you an apology, too,” I admitted. “I’ve been blaming you for things without even trying to see your side. My mom would be so annoyed at me.”
Tilly shrugged. “It’s easier to be angry than sad. Nobody understands that like I do. And if you can’t be real with your family, when can you? Besides, you were right earlier when you told Simone I was strong enough to handle it. I’m tough.”
But was she, really? I didn’t think she was nearly as strong as she liked to pretend she was.
“I love you. I want you in my life for as long as possible. And when I thought you’d gotten yourself in trouble the other day at the sheriff’s office, I was scared to death. I don’t know what was worse: the fear of you going to jail or the fear of you getting into a sleigh accident.”
“Oh, that.” She waved her hand. “I’m like a cat. I always land on my feet.”
That pissed me off. “Bullshit! You’re not immortal any more than my mom was. It was reckless and thoughtless. Do you have any idea how much Harry worries about you? What his face looked like when the call came in that you’d been arrested? Do you know how that made me feel?”
“Well, I…” She blinked, startled. “No?”
I stood up and began to pace. “All those people out there in that tent love you. They rely on you. So you can’t just go off half-cocked and do whatever the hell you want like it’s all some big joke.”
“Nonsense,” she spluttered. “They understand. They’re used to me. And Harry knows I—”
“You know why Harry doesn’t say anything?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “Because he’s terrified you’ll leave him if he pushes back in any way. And you know why? Because you’ve made it very clear to the people around you that it’s your way or the highway.”
She looked indignant, and part of me felt guilty for it. I bit my tongue against an apology.
“Everyone I’ve ever loved is gone, and there you are taking unnecessary risks with your life for what? A few minutes of fun? A prank?” I turned and gave her an accusing glare. “How would you like it if I did something so risky? Or if Harry did?”
“I had no idea you felt that way,” she said stiffly, lifting her chin.
“I do,” I said, deflating. “And so does Blue. And so does Simone. And Thomas and Rebecca. And Grandpa.”
Tilly looked around the room before finally setting her eyes back on me. “I’m not used to this. To having to talk about… feelings.” She said the last word as if it disgusted her. As if she had to pick its dirty carcass up between two fingers and dispose of it quickly.
I couldn’t hold back a snort-laugh. Both of us looked at each other in shock at the incongruent sound.
“You started it,” I said with a grin. “Besides, as my grandmother likes to say, ‘If you can’t be real with family, when can you be?’”
Tilly sniffed and tried to look annoyed but couldn’t quite manage it. “Is this what having a grandson around is going to be like?” she demanded. “Having someone call me on my bullshit all the time, and refuse to let me interfere in his life even when I know better than he does, and force me to slow down and take care of myself?”
I pretended to think about this for half a second. “If the grandson is me, then… yes.”
She held my gaze unflinchingly and nodded once. “Okay, then. I accept.”
I felt a slow warmth spread through my chest, soothing some of the hollow, burned-out places that had been ravaged by grief. Nothing would ever, ever make me stop missing my mom. But I didn’t have to carry that burden alone.
“Just to be clear, you’re renouncing your life of horse thievery?” I demanded, squatting down so I could look her in the eye. “No more stolen draft horses?”
Tilly pursed her lips and muttered something under her breath in a mournful tone that sounded an awful lot like “My grandson is the fun police,” but she nodded.
“I will pay more attention to my safety,” she promised. “Though, in my defense, when a woman’s best friend dares her to do a thing, she has little choice but to comply.”
