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I stand, tucking Lainey against my chest as she cries into my shoulder. “You know what, Mom? I’ll do you one better. We’re leaving.” I motion to Shayla, who is already on her feet, gathering up the rest of Lainey’s blocks and shouldering the diaper bag. Aunt Carol kisses Grayson’s cheek and hands him to Shayla.
Mom has the gall to look wounded after being so nasty toward us. “What? Absolutely not.” She shakes her finger at Shayla. “They have no business here, but you’re not going anywhere.”
I pin her with a glare. “Why? Why do you want me to stay?”
“What do you mean, ‘Why’? This is your father’s funeral. He’d be heartbroken by the way you’re treating me!” she practically shouts, drawing the attention of the rest of the family and Dad’s friends.
“No, I don’t think so. I think he’d be upset with the way you are treating us, and you know it.”
Mom falters, taking a step back as if I’ve shoved her, and places a hand over her heart. “Excuse me? How can you say that?”
“It’s been over three months since Lauren’s funeral and Grayson came to live with me. When was the last time you called to ask about him? You know, your only grandchild who lost his mother—your daughter.”
“I’ve called—”
“No, you haven’t. I called every week until I realized you weren’t interested in talking about Lauren or Grayson at all. Half the time, you were trying to get me off the phone as quickly as possible before passing it to Dad.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes. It. Is. And now that we’re here, you’ve held Grayson exactly once and still haven’t bothered to ask anything about him. Everyone else has followed your example, too, except for Aunt Carol. I’ve tried giving you grace out of respect for Dad and what he would have wanted, but I’m done. He never would have tolerated the way you’ve treated us, especially Shayla and Lainey, and I’m not going to tolerate it either.”
I reach behind me for Shayla’s hand, and she slips her fingers between mine, pressing herself close to my back. I should’ve done this the very first moment Mom got ugly with her. I pull Shayla to my front and guide her to the front door so that I’m between her and Mom.
Mom bustles out after us, ranting about what a terrible son I am. I usher Shayla to the van while I turn to speak to my mother for what could very well be the last time.
“I love you, Mom. I’ll always love you. But until you figure out how to be a halfway-decent parent and grandparent and start acting like you care about us, this is the last time you’ll be seeing or hearing from me.”
Aunt Carol pokes her head around Mom’s shoulder, and though she’s clearly upset, she gives me a small smile.
“Aunt Carol, it was lovely seeing you. Thank you for taking the time to get to know Grayson. I know Dad would have appreciated that.”
“Don’t be a stranger, James. I’d love to have the four of you come to visit sometime.”
“We’d be happy to,” I say, accepting the invitation on Shayla’s behalf, as well, in the hopes it’ll come true.
Mom stomps away, and though I hope she’ll take what I said to heart, I doubt it. This may be Dad’s funeral, but it may as well be two.
* * *
Back at the hotel, I’m still upset by the confrontation with my mother. I try my best not to let it show while we have dinner and get Lainey and Grayson ready for bed, but it leaks out regardless. Shayla can tell, but she keeps her voice cheery and makes up for what I’m lacking, keeping our babies happy and smiling until they’re down for the night.
After showering, I take my pillows and blanket from last night and shake them out on the couch. Other than game nights, I rarely drink, but I’m making an exception tonight by grabbing a few of the complimentary mini bottles from the fridge in the kitchenette. I twist the cap off the first bottle, down it in one shot, and immediately regret my choice of cinnamon whiskey.
Dad would have hated it, too. That thought actually has me cracking a smile, though it fades just as quickly as it came on.
I wallow in my thoughts as I lay down, abandoning the rest of the mini bottles. I’m already regretting coming out here instead of climbing into bed with Shayla when this is probably my last chance to sleep next to her, but I don’t want to bother her anymore with my miserable mood.
I just can’t help worrying about what Shayla must think of me now that she’s met my family. I may not know her family very well, but from what I’ve seen, there’s a lot more smiling, laughing, and affection in one afternoon spent sitting out on the lawn together than there is in six months with my family.
I crack an eye and turn at the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing. I slowly sit up when Shayla shuffles over and stops right in front of me. She’s wearing a fresh oversized T-shirt, and when I look closely, I see it’s another one of mine from my suitcase. That elicits another quick smile, and a flare of possession wells up inside me.
My angel wearing my clothes to bed.
Neither of us speaks, and I wait for some kind of signal as to what I should do. Her eyes drift to my two pillows stacked at the end of the couch. My mouth runs dry, and I swallow when she reaches for the pillows. She holds out her free hand, and when I take it, she tugs me up to stand and follow her as she leads me into the bedroom.
She places my pillows at the head of the bed, pulls back the covers, and motions for me to get in. I lay down and watch as she walks around the bed and climbs in on her side. I don’t second-guess anything now. I roll to the middle and spoon her just as I did the night before, tucking her under my arm and close to my chest. My mood lifts being so close to her, and I fall asleep listening to her soft exhalations.
Chapter 14
