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“Huh?” That’s when I realize that my hand is buried in a ziplock pouch with some of Sparkle’s snacks. The label says something about yogurt bites, which sounds healthy enough, I guess. “But I’m hungry.” I pop one into my mouth and chew slowly.
It tastes like an awful combo of cherry chapstick, chalk, and chewable vitamins. Ugh. Making a face, I shrug and eat a whole handful.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” Mom smacks the next handful out of my palm before it reaches my mouth. Tiny pink yogurt bites go flying across the table. “You’re not supposed to eat junk like that during the football season.”
I sigh. She’s right. But I’m not exactly thinking clearly these days.
“Let me fix you a real meal, while you tell me what’s going on,” she orders in that bossy mom-tone of hers.
I scrub a hand down my face. “Remember Nadia?”
Mom stares at me with a look I can’t unpack. “Mm-hmm. Of course I do.”
She hands Sparkle over to me then she gets out the rest of her ingredients, lining everything up on the counter in that methodical way she does.
I bounce my niece on my lap, and the little girl gets a kick out of feeding me more of her god-awful snacks. Including the bites that are scattered all over the table in front of us. She fusses if I refuse anything she shoves at my mouth. I start to spill the beans to Mom while chewing whatever the toddler gives me.
When I get to theOops, I married a stranger!part, Mom’s spatula clatters against the skillet, from where she’s melting a chunk of butter at the stove.
She spins and gives me a harsh look. “Now you better quit talking with your mouth full, Harry Westbrook, because I know my youngest son didn’t just tell me he got married without any of his family being there.”
I chew and swallow the cheese puffs Sparkle is now feeding me. “I’m sorry, Mom. It wasn’t something we planned. Heck we didn’t even know what we were doing at the time. It just happened, and now I don’t know what to do.”
I reach for another one of Sparkle’s white cheddar puffs. But this time, the little girl gets annoyed when I try to take her snacks. Apparently it’s only okay if she’s the one doing the feeding.
My niece and I bicker while Mom works quietly by the stove. It isn’t until she’s set the seasoned meat in the skillet that she turns to face me again. “With her being a lawyer, I’m sure Nadia knows all the legal options in front of you.”
“Yeah. I know. That's exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“Harryafraid,” Sparkle babbles, patting my face and shoving more snacks down my throat.
One of Mom’s brows rises, as she watches from the other side of the kitchen. “Oh? So you don’t want out of the marriage then.”
“I don’t, Mom. I don’t.” I shake my head, feeling helpless.
She smiles fondly at me. “Only you would come home from a drunken accident and not be scrambling to get out of it. That says a lot about you, son.”
I drop my head, staring at the table. “I just really like her, Mom. Before we went and screwed everything up by getting married, she was finally opening up to me. Letting her guard down.” And that’s just the thing—if we had more time, I think I could make her see how good we are together.
“How does she feel about all this?” my mother questions.
I can’t help but chuckle sadly. I don’t exactly know what Nadia thinks. We haven't had more than a single fleeting conversation since we saidI do. But I don’t want to confess to Mom about all my shoddy avoidance tactics. My head still stings from where Grammy smacked me.
I let my shoulders rise and fall. “I’m sure she wants out. Nadia doesn’t believe in happy-ever-afters like I do. She’s had a tough go in relationships. She’s jaded now.”
Mom starts plating the cooked chicken, throwing some steamed veggies on the side to cancel out the garbage I’ve been gnawing on all evening.
“I saw you two at the gala, Harry. There’s something real between you. Whatever you accomplished that evening in getting her to open up to you, you can’t let it all go down the drain. You need to keep trying. You need to be transparent and honest with her.”
Mom plucks a fork from the silverware drawer. She sets the plate down in front of me, just out of reach of Sparkle, so the child doesn’t burn herself. She’s in a real grabby stage these days.
“Just let Nadia see the real you, Harry. If she doesn’t like the real, you…” she pauses, squeezing my cheeks in both her hands. “Then maybe she’s not yours after all.”
My gut turns at her words—too real for my liking. Shit, what if my wifedoesn’tlike me? What if she doesn’t want me?
“Not yours!” My tiny niece repeats Mom’s words, wiggling off my lap and dragging the whole bag of cheese puffs away with her.
Not mine.
