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I can hardly keep track of the conversation before dinner. Aria, Carter, and Declan carry the chatter. Aria tries to draw my mom in, but she’s been quiet, mostly just nodding and agreeing. As we take our seats, Aria brings a bottle of wine to the table and pours each of us a glass. Thank God. I desperately need it.
I focus on the wine spilling into the round bottoms of the glasses and breathe deep. It’s always awkward, I remind myself. It would have been awkward at first even if Declan hadn’t been a Cross and he’d asked me on a regular date. I would have been nervous bringing him home no matter what.
“We need a drink to cheers, I think,” Aria says with a smile she gives each of us our glass. Carter and Declan have whiskey already so it’s just the three of us women with prosecco.
The way Carter watches my mother reminds me of how he was when I first came here. He’s a bit more reserved with my mom at the table. It occurs to me that he’s always been guarded. His love for Aria slips out regardless.
He catches my eye, and I anticipate some kind of disappointment with how awkward this all is. Carter smiles instead, a genuine grin that creates a touch of wrinkles around his eyes. He lifts his glass in cheers toward me and I do the same.
Glasses clink and there’s a bit of warmth that touches me. It’s a feeling that’s reminiscent of home.
My mother plays along respectfully but there’s no smile on her face.
“Okay then.” Aria takes her seat last, lifting her hands to indicate all the food on the table. “Let’s eat.”
She’s made a full spread of Italian food. Bruschetta with fresh bread. Meatballs. Caprese salad. Creamy chicken and gnocchi. Handmade tortellini. It looks divine and smells even better.
Aria passes the first dish and smiles at my mother. “I’m hoping there’s something you’ll like here,” she says and then her eyes widen. “Oh! The lasagna.” She jumps up from her seat and brings the last dish back to the table. All the while she’s gone, it’s quiet, apart from the clinking of serving spoons against the porcelain dishes.
“I salvaged it,” Aria states, placing down the pan of homemade lasagna. “The one corner is a little less than perfect.”
My mom speaks kindly and of her own free will for the first time, “If it tastes as good as it smells, I’m sure it’s delicious.” Her smile looks a bit more genuine, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s skeptical. It’s noticeable. Perhaps Aria is growing on her though.
Dinner continues with Aria mainly asking my mother questions and attempting to keep the conversation upbeat. All I can think is that my heart is breaking into two.
Declan finds my hand under the table and squeezes. He hasn’t touched his drink. Neither have I.
Neither has my mother.
My mom stays quiet as we start eating. The conversation dims as forks clink against plates. Aria talks to Carter. Carter talks to Declan. Declan doesn’t say anything to my mother, and she doesn’t say anything to him. I keep glancing at him, begging him to say something to her but every vision of what he could say to her is not the man I know Declan to be.
I don’t know how to make any of this right and I don’t know what to say.
The tension’s obvious after a few minutes. I have to saysomething.Dinner with my own mother can’t be like this. I can’t sit at a table and pretend everything is fine when two people I love so dearly won’t even speak to one another.
I’ve just opened my mouth to say something, anything, when Declan clears his throat.
“I love your daughter,” he says, voice clear. “I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t.”
My mother’s fork pauses midair and her eyes go wide as she stares at Declan for a long moment. Slowly, she lowers her fork and sets it on her plate. There’s pain in her eyes when she speaks.
“Braelynn is my only child and my entire world—”
“Same for me,” Declan says matter of factly, cutting her off. “It’s a good thing that she has both of us to love her.”
My mother swallows, and Carter and Aria sip from their drinks. I feel hot all over, on the verge of panic.
“I don’t know when it happened,” Declan continues. “But at some point, there was no turning back.”
“In your life, there’s hardly any going back. Isn’t that right?” My mom’s pushing him, and there are tears in her eyes. The emotion creeps into her tone and I imagine she’s been on edge the entire night wanting to confront him. She knows enough that she should be scared I’m involved with him. I can’t deny that.
“It’s never too late for anything,” Aria says, grabbing a piece of bread. “I don’t know if you know this, Mrs. Lennox, but I grew up in this life, and I know how others feel about it. I know the hesitancy.” Everyone at the table watches Aria now. “But I’m not in it any longer. I have children. I have my art, and I don’t—” She licks her lips. “The brutality of it was too much.”
“You are Aria Cross,” my mother says in her best no-nonsense tone. “Of course you are in the life.” My mom’s voice doesn’t shake, but she’s about to cry. “I do not want this for my daughter.”
“You don’t want what, exactly?” Aria asks. Declan gazes at his hardly touched plate and squeezes my hand tighter. “There is no one who will love her more. No one who can give her more. She is family, which means you are as well.”
Aria has a no-nonsense tone to rival my mother’s and the tension at the table cracks.
