Page 109 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“You know you’re wearing her ring, right?” I ask, my tone gravelly with emotion.

“Yeah, I know. No thanks to you, though. But I saw it on her hand in some of the pictures.”

I chuckle because she’s right. I never did tell her. At first it was because it didn’t seem like the right time. Then there was all the shit with Fabian and the Senate. And then… it just became easier not to mention it.

“You’re right,” I admit on a deep sigh. “I do want to see her. She wanted me to come for Thanksgiving, and I think I’d kinda decided to go. But then—”

“But then my family ruined shit,” she says bitterly.

“That’s one way to put it,” I confirm. “Family is messy. In your case, you were born into that mess. But in mine…” Pausing, I swallow thickly. “In my case, I made a mess of it.”

Lucia hums. “Are you ready to forgive your mom?”

“I don’t know,” I say softly. “But I’m ready to try.”

Lucia

My heart is swelling with pride at my husband as we stand at the arrival terminal of the airport, waiting for Sy’s mom. I know my husband isn’t thrilled with what I did, but he’s here, ready to pick up the mom he thought he couldn’t ever forgive. And maybe he never can, but the fact he’s willing to try speaks volumes. So, yeah, I’m so freaking proud of him.

“It’ll be okay,” I murmur, squeezing his hand.

“I know,” he retorts, not taking his eyes off the sliding doors in front of us.

Within minutes, people start walking through the doors. Even though I’ve committed the way Sy’s mom looks to memory, I can’t stop fidgeting. I don’t want to miss her in the sea of people walking by us.

“There she is,” Sy announces unhappily.

As soon as I see the woman, I want to laugh at how ridiculous I was being. With her dark hair, dark eyes, and sharp cheekbones, she looks like an older version of Sy. Well, that’s just half of it. Even the way she walks is so much like her son that it would be impossible to miss her.

When she reaches us, I give her a warm smile. While she puts down her carry-on-suitcase, I wait for Sy to say something. But when he holds his hand out to her like she’s a stranger rather than the woman who gave him life, I’m over it.

“Welcome to Minneapolis, Clarissa. I’m so excited to finally meet you,” I gush. Letting go of Sy’s hand, I step around him and hug the woman that had started to look a little lost.

“Lucia,” she beams, hugging me back. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”

Once we let go of each other, I look pointedly at Sy, but he still just stands there. By now, people have started pointing and staring, and it’s clear the cap he’s wearing is doing a shit job at hiding who he is.

“We should get going,” I suggest. When she reaches for her small suitcase, I grin at Sy. “Why don’t you take that?”

With an eye roll he takes the suitcase, not bothering to roll it. Because taking the two seconds to pull the handle up would obviously delay us gravely, he lifts it all the way to the car. During the short walk, I make small talk with Clarissa, and she tells me all about the flight.

“I’m not much of a flier. But it wasn’t that bad,” she explains, and I nod sympathetically.

“It can be rough this time of the year due to the weather, so I’m glad it was smooth,” I offer.

Though I act like I don’t notice it, I see the way she keeps looking in Sy’s direction. Her eyes are so sad I can barely stand it, and I’m starting to wonder if I made a mistake by inviting her here. Not just because my husband is being a dick, but because he’s clearly breaking her heart.

Without another word, we get into the car. Clarissa automatically climbs into the back while I slide into the front passenger seat. After about twenty minutes on the road, Sy finally joins the conversation.

“Where are you staying?” he asks gruffly.

“At a motel near—”

He scoffs. “A motel? Why the fuck are you staying in a motel?”

I slap his arm before turning in my seat. The forlorn look on Clarissa’s face makes my heart contract. I’m starting to feel really bad for her. This isn’t how I thought it would go. I mean, sure, I suspected Sy would be closed off—expected it even. Just not to this level where he’s being incredibly rude.

Almost every single night around 4am he tosses and turns, then after a few minutes he says something about his mom. That has to mean something, right?

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