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“Clearly,” Mak snorted from the front seat.
I just shook my head as I grinned. Suddenly shit didn’t feel so dire. My shitty performance at work today, the paps, my mom, all of it fell away. I wrapped an arm around Briar’s shoulders and pulled her even closer to my side. After pressing a quick kiss against her temple, I sighed and settled into my seat. Between me and Briar, we could handle anything my mom tried to toss at us.
Suddenly I was damn glad to be stuck in rush hour traffic.
Chapter Twenty
Still Kingston
I didn’t know how to do this. I’d taken my time getting Zoe out of the carseat. She was still asleep and a welcome weight in my arms. I could hold Zoe all night out here. Especially if it meant putting off seeing my mom again.
But I knew we couldn’t. For one, Zoe would be up at 1 a.m. making us all pay the price for my cowardice. And for two, I was starving. For some reason I was craving Italian—spaghetti and meatballs like my mom used to make when we were little—before our whole world imploded with news of our parents’ divorce—back when Mom had time for us.
And yes, I saw the parallels, too.
Briar’s hand rubbed against my back. “They should still be in the guesthouse. We’ll call them over when you’re ready to see them.”
“I know. Thanks. I really mean that. You’ve been great, especially today. I’m sorry I was an ass earlier.”
“Apology accepted. Just don’t make a habit of it.”
“Noted.” I laughed lightly as I leaned over to press a quick kiss against her lips.
Briar rested her forehead against mine for a second then straightened. “Want me to wake up Zoe? She really shouldn’t sleep so long. She’s napped a ton today.”
“She’ll wake up when I put her down on the couch. And at least then she’ll have a soft surface to cry into.”
Briar’s soft laughter followed me as I opened the door and we stepped inside the house. Immediately the aroma of my mom’s famous spaghetti and meatballs hit me in the face—and also explained my earlier craving.
“Mom?” I shouted, completely forgetting I’d been holding my little girl.
Zoe started crying, her tiny hands coming up to rub her eyes.
“I’ll take her,” Briar murmured, pulling my daughter out of my arms and making shushing sounds.
“Take Zoe into the front room. I can’t believe she already went back on our agreement. She couldn’t even make it a day without putting herself and her selfish needs first.” I ranted the entire way into the kitchen where I found…nothing. Despite the smell, the kitchen was empty and clean. Nothing was simmering on the stove, and yet I still smelled that amazing aroma of my mom’s sauce.
And I was alone.
She had to be—
Jaw clenched, I whirled around and took three steps toward the sofas, but she wasn’t there either. Briar held a still fussing Zoe in her lap on the couch, but they were alone.
She wasn’t here.
I turned back to the kitchen and stepped through to the back door. I ripped the door open and was punched in the face with the mouthwatering smell of my mom’s sauce again. And out of the corner of my eye I saw a piece of paper fluttering against the door. A note. I pulled it down and read.
Kingston,
Let us know when you’re ready for company. Can’t wait to meet my granddaughter! Hope she’s like herdaddy and loves spaghetti!
~Mom
I held her note in my hands and tried to get control of my seesawing emotions. This had been just a fucknugget of a day. Up and down. Assumptions and misunderstandings left and right. Tears and anger.
I left the note on the countertop and crossed the great room to where Briar sat with a sniffling Zoe. I sat down next to them and rubbed a hand over my daughter’s back. “How are you, Zo-Zo? Are you ready to meet your grandma?”
Zoe blinked up at me then dove into my chest, her tiny head burrowing into my armpit.
