Page 11 of This Feeling

Before I had much of a chance to debate it on the front porch, the door opened and my father appeared, a wide grin on his face.

My heart squeezed in my chest as I took him in, and I fought to hold back my tears. He’d gotten older. His hair was a bit more gray, a few more wrinkles adorned his face…but his blue eyes were still big and bright, instantly easing my weary soul.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you, Dad,” I said, dropping my bags and letting him embrace me in a giant bear hug.

“I’ve missed you, too. More than you could ever know.”

I wasn’t sure how long we stood there, wrapped in one another’s arms, but it felt good. For the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.

“She has no clue. She’s in the kitchen making the last desserts for the Mother’s Day brunch this weekend. And she’s in a bit of a mood.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Your brother told her that he and Harper would be over for dinner tonight.”

My heart felt like it actually tripped over itself for a moment. “I thought they broke up.”

He shrugged. “Guess they worked things out. Your mother isn’t pleased, but nothing’s new there.”

I frowned. “Why not? I thought she liked Harper.”

He chuckled. “She does when she isn’t dating her baby boy.”

My frown deepened. “What?”

Dad waved off my concern. “Come on, let’s go surprise her.”

I pushed all thoughts of Harper and my brother from my head the best I could—which was difficult.

My dad picked up one bag while I grabbed the other, and I followed him into the house. Glancing around, I felt myself grinning. Everything looked the same. The large living room was to the right when you walked in. Nothing about it had changed since the last time I was here. Hell, since I’d left when I was eighteen. The sofa and love seat were in the same spots, but the furniture itself was new. They were always dark when we were growing up. Now they were cream-colored, with bright throw pillows on their surfaces. A blanket was draped across the love seat, and I could picture my mother sitting there, with a book in one hand and a coffee in the other, as a fire roared in the fireplace.

I looked to my left and saw the familiar furniture in the formal dining room. The huge oak table that once belonged to my grandparents still sat in the center, with ten chairs all tucked around it neatly. The buffet cabinet most likely still held the same china that my parents got when they were married so long ago.

Dad set my bag down at the bottom of the steps. I did the same with the other before following him again down the hallway leading to the kitchen and family room. It was one big giant space; my mother always said it was her favorite part of the house. They’d lived in this place for almost their entire marriage, first living in a small rental home until my mother discovered she was pregnant with me. The first thing on their agenda: buy a home where they could raise their family.

As we drew closer, I heard her humming a Christmas song.

Christmas. It wasMay, for crying out loud.

“Maddie?”

She stopped humming but continued packing the food without missing a beat. “Matt, you know I have a lot to do to get this all ready for tomorrow.”

“I have an early Mother’s Day gift for you,” Dad said with a smile in my direction.

“What?” she said, humor in her voice. “We promised we weren’t going to…”

Her words faded when she turned and saw me. Tears instantly appeared.

“Aww, don’t cry, Mom.”

“Declan,” she whispered as she rushed across the kitchen and into my arms. “You’re home!”

Holding her close, I breathed in my mother’s familiar scent—roses and citrus. When I was younger, I always thought she smelled that way because she had roses in the backyard and ate a lot of oranges.

“I missed you, Mom. I missed everyone.”

She eased back and gave me a once-over. “You’re okay? Not hurt or anything?”

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