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“Are you going to offer me a drink? William, you are not the best host.”
I walk into the kitchen and grab a glass. My mother likes iced tea, so I pour her a glass without asking what she wants. Back in the living room, I hand it to her, where she’s seated on the couch. She’s looking at the picture of me and Melissa, where we’re making crazy faces at the camera.
“Is that the woman?”
I simply nod.
She picks up the photo and stares at it. “She’s pretty. I like her hair. I wrestled some information out of Genevieve. Heard she was a good girl. Mom. Has two children. A terrible scoundrel of an ex. Made quite a name for herself in the wedding industry.”
“You’ve been snooping.”
“I’ve been concerned. Is she also why you haven’t left this house in weeks, except to go to work?”
“Why would you assume that?”
“Your siblings talk. Apparently, you’ve been a bit of a homebody lately. You need to shave. Your face is too handsome to walk around looking like a homeless man. You want to talk about what’s going on in your life?”
“I don’t think you want to hear about it.”
She puts the photo down, leans forward, and places a hand on my knee. “William, I might not like everything you have to say, but don’t you dare assume I don’t want to hear it all. You’re my son, and I love you. At the end of the day, I want you to be happy. From the look on your face, the whiskey in your glass, and the fact that you’re home alone on your night off, I know you’re not happy.”
She’s right. I’m not.
I take a seat on the couch and grab my glass, take a drink, and then look down at the floor. “I messed up. It started months ago. I shouldn’t have been with Allison as long as I was. I couldn’t break up with her after she lost the baby. I should have done it as soon as I got out of the hospital. Because of that, I broke her heart, and I gave Melissa, a great woman who I should be with, a reason to believe that I’m the kind of man who walks away.”
I take another drink. The liquor’s burn is the only thing that numbs the ache in my chest. “Allison loved me more than I really understood. I destroyed her and believed her when she said she was fine. It took a lot of understanding on my part to see what my staying too long did.”
“Look at me. I mean it. Look at me.” Her tone is severe. The woman who scolded me in my youth has that similar fierceness in her eyes. “William, you are not the only one to blame. When Allison was pregnant, we asked you to do what was right, and you fulfilled that wish. You stepped up and proposed to a woman who I now know you did not love. You have always been the good one. Of all your brothers and sisters, I never had to worry about you. That’s why I didn’t realize you were so unhappy. When you were in the hospital and we didn’t know if you were going to live, I prayed to God, asked him to save my son. My hero. My son of honor and value. I would have given anything—and I mean, anything—to save your life. I can’t believe I was so cruel to you so soon after.”
“You didn’t know what was going on.”
“I should have listened better. I would have understood why you walked away when you did. You said you met another woman, and it all sounded so scandalous.”
“It wasn’t. I swear. Melissa appeared one day, and over the past few months, she has become the most important thing in my life. I pushed my way into her family which is something I know she’s protective of. I bonded with her kids and now I’ve walked away from them. I walked away from her. On top of that, I almost ruined her business. Allison was one click away from virtually blasting Melissa’s wedding planning and design company she runs with her friend. I knew Melissa was concerned how our relationship would impact her business. That took a lot of pleading on my part. A lot of explaining my actions to Allison. I had to help her understand. We had fun, but the two of us together, we’re not meant for forever. Allison finally gave up. She said she couldn’t ruin another woman’s business when Melissa’s only fault was loving a man who wasn’t worth the dirt beneath her shoes.”
“Allison’s a better woman that me. I would have blasted you in every newspaper from here to California.”
“She’s a good girl.”
“But she’s not who you love.”
I shake my head.
Mom leans back in her seat and tilts her head, assessing me with her eyes. “What do you like about Melissa?”
“What do Ilike? Where do I start?”
“With the simple things.”
“That she has this amazing artistic ability to create. Whether it’s something small like a crafted favor, or an altar with fabric and lights, she can make beautiful and meaningful things. I like that she wears pajamas with coffee cups on them. She doesn’t care if she’s decked out in a full face of makeup, or wearing yoga pants, in order to leave the house. She’s comfortable in her skin. I like how she talks with her hands when she gets very excited, or how she crosses her arms when she’s defensive. Her teeth skim her bottom lip when she looks at me for too long. I bet she doesn’t know she does either of those things. She rambles. A lot. Always when she’s nervous or uncomfortable. She makes me laugh. She makes me happy.”
Mom folds her hands on her lap and asks, “Do you love her?”
“Yes.” It’s an easy answer.
“Even though she doesn’t trust you?”
I lift a brow at her. “How do you know that?”
