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She scuffed. “Right, because you listened so well when you were a child, huh?”
I twisted the cap and took a sip, placing it on the counter to face her. “I’m not going. There is no reason for me to be there.”
She pulled out the barstool and sat on it. “Yes, there is,” she replied, already prepared for every rebuttal I was about to throw at her.
“What?” I questioned, genuinely curious about her response.
“It’s important to Lucas’ mom. You know the woman who’s like a second mother to you.”
“Oh, well, thank you for that guilt trip. Mission accomplished. I’ll meet you there,” I sarcastically stated.
“Dylan, do not take that tone with me.”
I gripped the back of my neck, annoyed.
“You need a haircut. How about I schedule one for you? Darling, don’t you want to cut your hair? It’s too long. Only girls have their hair that long, honey, you don’t want to look like a girl, do you?”
“It’s never been an issue for me. I don’t have a problem getting pussy, Ma, if that’s your concern.”
“Dylan!” She stepped toward me.
I put my hands out in front of me, surrendering. “What? You started it.”
She placed her hand on her forehead and took a deep breath. “Oh my God, you’re giving me a headache. Your hair is past your shoulders and have you never heard of a razor? Your face, you’re covering your handsome face with nothing but facial hair.”
“Again, it’s never been a—”
“Enough. I do not want to hear about your bed hopping ways. I know you’re on the police bureau and about to be promoted to Detective here in Oak Island,” she beamed even though she was trying to reprimand me.
“Only after working on the force for three years since you graduated from college,” she added with nothing but pride laced in her tone, stepping toward me again like she was going to hug me, but at the last second she smacked me upside the head. “By the way I don’t care if you’re twenty-six years old or fifty years old. You do not talk to me like I am one of your boys or colleagues. I raised you better than that, Dylan Anthony McGraw, do you hear me?”
I rubbed at my head where she just hit me. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I know, honey. I know Aubrey is going to be there with her boyfriend. I know it’s been years since you have seen her. I know you still—”
I sighed and we locked eyes. She knew I hated that she was bringing this up again, knowing I wouldn’t discuss it with her.
I wouldn’t discuss it with anyone.
She lovingly smiled, reading my mind. “This is not why I’m here. It would mean a lot to Lucas’ mom if you were there for her Christmas Eve party. She wants everyone together. We don’t know what’s going to happen, Dylan. She’s getting worse, and I know you see it. This might be her last…” she stopped, unable to finish her sentence.
“I know, Ma. I’ll be there.”
She stood and walked over to me. “Thank you, honey. Everything is going to be okay. You’ll see.”
I silently prayed she was right.
AUBREY
I sat at my vanity, peering at the woman in the mirror.
“I love you,” I whispered, barely being able to hear it over the melody coming from my jewelry box. The one that Dylan had left for me in my mom’s car all those years ago.
Holding on to the only thing I had left of him.
Of us.
Her eyelashes were long and covered in mascara.
