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I’d apologized to Mom a dozen times already, and she’d graciously accepted those apologies, but I doubted there would be a time I’d feel like I was done apologizing. I’d made a lot of mistakes with her, but we were growing past that, and it meant the world to me.
“I told you it’s in the past, honey,” she said, waving me off. “What matters now is you’re taking care of yourself. You’re healthy and clear and I love having my daughter back.”
Her words sank into my heart, filling me with hope. “I’m going to keep working at it, every single day.”
And I knew I’d have to, too. There were countless times I wanted a drink in the past few weeks, countless times the craving would creep up the back of my throat and beg me to soothe it, but thanks to Dr. Casson, I’d learned how to redirect that compulsive behavior. It wasn’t easy, but it was working.
“Have you decided if you’ll spend Christmas with us?” she asked. “I’ve spoken to your father, or tried to. He’s still…”
Irritation bubbled up in my chest, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Still stuck in the past?” I offered for her.
“That and well, he’s worried. He won’t admit it, but after everything that happened with me and my surgery, and then finding out that he was so close to losing you too…” She sighed, shaking her head. “He’s not handling the situation well.”
“He’s really not,” I said. “I know I’m in no position to deny him any request.” Even though every new demand made our relationship that much more strained. “And I want to earn back his respect, but the way he treated Jim lost him all of mine.”
Mom’s eyebrows rose, shock flashing over her features at my tone.
I shrugged. “I’m done sugarcoating things, Mama,” I said. “Honesty is where I’m at. I’m doing what he says because I know it’s good for me too—most of the things anyway—but I don’t exactly want to come around for Christmas if he’s going to bad-mouth Jim again.”
“So Jim and you are…”
Happiness fluttered through my body, a giddy sort of rush that made my days so much brighter. “Taking it one day at a time,” I answered.
“But he’s in your life,” she said. “And he’s important to you.”
“He’s always been important to me.” I swallowed hard, the decade-old wound of losing him stinging. Life would’ve looked very different if I would’ve just told my father to go fuck himself. Jim and I might be married with a baby or two. We’d never know now.
“I’m sorry your father has an expectation that is outdated,” she said. “But he’s told me you’ve been spending a lot of time with Brad as well?”
I huffed a laugh. “I have.”
Mom waited for me to elaborate, but I didn’t. Brad and I were friends, good friends actually, and Jim knew all about the random lunch dates we’d been having. So did my father, and he could assume whatever he wanted as long as he kept the demands off my back.
“All right then,” she said, grinning. “I do hope you’ll come to Christmas. Persephone will be at an away game with Cannon, of course. It would be nice to have some quality time with you.”
My heart ached, wanting to give in to her request right here and now, but I needed time. And it was okay to need time, to set boundaries with the family that had never really made me feel at home in recent memory.
“I’ll let you know soon,” I said. I had a week until Christmas, I could think on it, weigh the rewards versus the risks—which were me and Father butting heads in a way we wouldn’t recover from.
“Okay, dear,” she said, hugging me again. “Thank you for spending time with me today. Say hi to Lyla for me, will you?” she asked as she headed up the front porch steps. “Tell her I’m going to order a half dozen of those pies of hers for the holiday.”
“Will do,” I said, waving to her as I got back in my car.
I’d had to skip out of volunteer work today because of my doctor’s appointment, which Jim totally understood, but I had plenty of time to make it to my shift at Lyla’s, and Brad was meeting me there early for a late lunch.
“You aren’t due here for another two hours,” Lyla said when I walked in in full uniform.
“I have a late lunch date,” I said, motioning to Brad who sat at one of the two-tops in the back of the restaurant.
Lyla laughed, her hair tucked up tight in a top-knot. “I think you just like me too much,” she said. “It’s like you live here with how many shifts you’ve been picking up.”
Money was not an endless thing, I’d recently learned, and more shifts meant more security. “You’re just that great of a boss,” I said, and I really meant it. She was firm, damn good at what she did, but also probably one of the nicest people I’d ever met.
“Maybe I should be meaner,” she said, winking at me as she headed back toward the kitchen. “Ensure that you take some time for yourself every now and then.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I teased. “Besides, I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”
“That’s because you’re on my good side,” she said, laughing as she disappeared into the kitchen.
