Page 39 of Dagger

“Come sit, then,” she says, gesturing toward the couch. “Tell me what’s been going on with you. You know I always love hearing your stories about you and your friends.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I follow her to the living room. “You’re the only person who could make my life sound interesting, Mom,” I tease, sinking into the plush couch.

She just smiles knowingly. “Well, you’ve always had a knack for finding trouble and turning it into an adventure.”

I glance toward Frank, who’s standing quietly near the doorway, watching us. I realize I haven’t properly acknowledged him yet. Standing, I extend my hand. “Hey, sorry about earlier,” I say, meeting his gaze.

He studies me for a moment, then reaches out and shakes my hand. His grip is firm but not overbearing, his expression calm. “No hard feelings,” he says with a slight grin. “It’s a lot to take in. I get it.”

I nod, appreciating the way he handles himself. He seems... solid. The kind of guy who’s good for Mom.

Frank steps aside to let Mom sit next to me, and I sink back into the cushions, letting myself relax for the first time in what feels like weeks. The place feels like home in a way it never did before, and for a second, I let myself imagine what it would be like to come back more often.

But then the thought of Chloe and my son cuts through the moment, sharp and relentless. My jaw tightens, and I force myself to focus on the sound of Mom’s voice, on the warmth of her hand resting on mine. I’ll deal with the rest later. Right now, I’m here. And maybe that’s enough. For now.

Frank sinks into the worn leather of a recliner, the kind that practically molds to you after years of use. He leans back, restingone ankle on his knee, looking completely at ease, like he’s been part of this home for years. Mom settles beside me on the couch, a soft smile playing on her lips as she glances at him. There’s something in her expression—a kind of quiet happiness I haven’t seen in her for a long time.

“So, how’d you two meet?” I ask, leaning back and letting the warmth of the moment settle over me.

Frank chuckles, the sound low and easy. “It’s a bit of a story,” he says, glancing at Mom like he’s waiting for her to jump in.

Mom laughs softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not that much of a story,” she says, nudging him playfully.

“Oh, it’s a story,” Frank counters with a grin. “One of my favorites.”

Mom rolls her eyes affectionately and looks at me. “I went into his hardware store one afternoon, needing a hammer.”

“A hammer?” I raise an eyebrow, amused.

She nods, laughing a little. “Yeah, a hammer. I had this idea to hang a bunch of pictures I’d been meaning to put up forever, but I didn’t have the right tools. So I went to the store, thinking I’d just grab one and go.”

Frank leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She walked in, all determined, but the moment she picked up a hammer, I could tell she didn’t have the first clue what she was doing.”

“I did too!” Mom protests, but she’s laughing now.

“You were holding it upside down,” Frank says, grinning.

I can’t help but laugh at that, imagining the scene.

“He offered to come out and help,” Mom continues, ignoring Frank’s teasing. “At first, I said no. I didn’t want to bother him, and, well...” She hesitates, glancing down.

“She was stubborn,” Frank adds, shaking his head with a fond smile. “But I insisted. Told her it wasn’t any trouble andthat I couldn’t, in good conscience, let her destroy her walls trying to hang pictures with the wrong tools.”

“So he came over that weekend,” Mom says, her smile softening. “Not only did he help me hang those pictures, but he fixed the wobbly kitchen cabinet I’d been dealing with for years.”

“And then she cooked me the best dinner I’ve ever had,” Frank says, his voice turning warm. “Chicken and dumplings. I was hooked after that.”

“She’s always been a great cook,” I say, grinning at her.

Mom waves off the compliment, but I can tell she’s pleased. “After that, he just... kept showing up,” she says, her tone light but meaningful.

“Couldn’t stay away,” Frank admits, leaning back in the chair with a contented smile. “Since that day, we haven’t gone more than a few hours without seeing each other. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

My chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, and I glance at Mom, who’s blushing faintly but smiling like she hasn’t smiled in years.

“And then he asked me to marry him a few months ago,” Mom says, her voice softer now. “I said yes, and, well, here we are.”

“He moved in after that,” I say, piecing it together.

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