Page 184 of Love Me

“Are you sure? Most people have rings,” he asks.

“We’ll have them as well. But before them, we had these. And today we’re getting yours back as well.”

He kisses me and I lose myself in his passion-filled mouth for a few divine seconds that pass way too quickly.

After I put on a pair of high waist jeans and a black lace blouse, I tuck it in my waistband and slip on matching ballet flats.

He gestures for me to take a seat. He threads a comb through my hair and splits my hair into two sides, creating two cute fishtail braids. Memories flash before my eyes. I was never good at doing my hair, so he learned from a young age to do it.

“I missed you doing this.”

“Me too.”

When we go downstairs, my mother steps inside, hugging me. It’s strange not seeing my father next to her, but I find her more at ease. I understand that. My father expects her to crack any second.

When we’re in the car I ask, “How are you, Mom?”

“Too much. I know how it sounds, but it’s just too much.”

“Maybe we should postpone the trip.”

“No, I am fine.”

“You know you can talk to me.”

“When you start talking too, sweetie.”

“So we’re still not talking about the trainwreck.”

We smile at each other knowingly.

“I’m acclimating to life at forty-three… that’s scary.”

“Of all the things that happened that night, peeing my pants felt the worst… like I’d lost my grip on control.”

Silence follows, but as we exchange a glance, I think this is how we will get better. Step by step. One small confession after the other.

When we reach Grandmother’s mansion, she says, “This never ceases to impress me.”

“Will you stay here?”

“When the time comes. I talked to your father, and we decided to stay, to be near her.”

“You’re a good daughter.”

“And you’re the best daughter I could have wished for. Your father broke down yesterday. We’re cracking like old glass. He told me everything.” A deep sigh parts her lips.

I place my hand on top of hers. “Mom, him loving you like that made it all okay.”

“I don’t know what we did to deserve you.”

Thomas rushes to open the door for us, and Mom asks, “How is she today?”

“Today is a better day, ma’am.”

We step inside the foyer. I expect him to show us to her office. Instead, we take the stairs to her room. I’ve only been in there once, right after the accident.

Grandmother’s resting on her bed, dressed immaculately in a black dress and her pearls, but looking pale and fragile. My stupid heart twitches. When her eyes find mine, I see unmistakable regret in them.

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