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“But there’s a part of you that loves him.” I’m speaking from experience, from the most basic, biological part of me, from the little boy who lost his mom and never stopped hoping that his dad would be worthy of the love he held in his heart for him. “There’s a part of you that wants him to love you with no strings attached and no ulterior motives.”
There’s that look again. Self-deprecation laced with disbelief. I can tell that she feels stupid and used, and even though I was right when I warned her away from him multiple times, I take no pleasure in seeing her look so disappointed. Moving back over to her, I pull her into another hug. “He doesn’t care about anyone, Ter, only himself.”
“Because you’ve always been the more sensitive of my boys, Chris. And when you were little, you used to tell me everything. What you were thinking. What you were feeling. And you’d always ask me how I was feeling.” She smiles, like she always does when she recalls a good memory. “Especially when I was pregnant with Teresa. You didn’t understand how hard pregnancy could be on the body, but you still made it your job to care for me. You would follow me around the house all day long, asking, ‘Mommy, do you need help?’ ‘Mommy, have you taken your medicine?’ One time, you got upset when you saw me
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“I knew I would be safe with you, Chris, and I knew you needed this, needed me, first. RJ doesn’t need me at all. He just wants Reese's approval. He's so desperate to be like him.” She’s not wrong there. RJ and I haven’t seen or spoken to each other in years, but I know he’s no different than before. Honestly, he might even be worse now than he was then. Mom sighs wistfully, continuing. “And Teresa, she’s never known me. I knew I would need your help if I was going to have any chance at a relationship with her.”
I’m stunned. “Years. You’ve been with me for years.” She reaches over and grabs my hand. “That’s right, and now that I’ve got you, I’m never letting go.”
Her lips quivering when she says, “Mom.” The word pierces the air, and then it’s drowned out by their sobs. And their sobs are mine, and Mallory’s, and our home is filled with the sounds of reunion, my heart full in ways I never thought it could be.
In the silence, I let my mind wander to thoughts of my own wedding day. To a life and future with Chris’ ring on my finger and his heart firmly in my hands. When we were in Antigua, I told him he should ask me to marry him, and he said he would. The fact that he hasn’t yet, makes me wonder if he ever will. When I had that moment of doubt, he assured me he didn’t need it. The ring. The vows. The celebration of our love with the people who held us together when holding each other wasn’t an option. And now I’m wondering if I can live without it.
“There being twelve steps to my plan to win you back.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows past a ball of emotion. “There were always thirteen. This was always thirteen, but I want to be sure that you’re ready for it. Are you ready, Mal?”
“I need to hear you say it.” “I’m ready.” The lack of hesitance solidifies something for him. I can see it in the way his shoulders relax just a little as the soft and serious gaze he saves just for me settles on my face, heating my skin. “Truth or dare, princess?”
"Sure, princess, anyway, when you were ducking and dodging me like I was a bill collector, I decided to spend some time in the kitchen with Mama, learning how to cook and getting her help to put this together because I remembered you saying that she wouldn't write any of her recipes down for you."
"There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you, Mallory Kent."
Every hour spent together, every day spent apart. Every kiss we've shared and tear we've shed. Because all of it, every painful, beautiful moment, got us here.