Page 99 of With a Cherry On Top

“You have always,alwaysheld on to guilt like it’s a full-time job. But the point is,” she says, patting my hand, “that life isn’t a fish funeral, Aaron.”

“That’sthe point?”

“You were a kid who made a dumb mistake. Just like now, you’re a man who made a human one. You messed up with Logan. We all know that. But it’s time to stop living like you need to earn your place back in his life. Like you’re on some lifelong quest for redemption.”

I swallow hard, her words sinking deep.

“You’ve said you’re sorry. You’ve shown it in every way a person can. And if that’s still not enough for him, that’shisburden to carry. Not yours.”

I look down at the table, our hands still linked. “I just...I want to be better. For him. For Sadie. For?—”

“Be better for you,” she interrupts gently. “Not because you owe it to anyone. Not because you’re afraid of messing up again. Do it because you love yourself enough to believe you deserve good things, too.”

A lump rises in my throat. I nod, because it’s all I can manage.

She leans in and kisses the top of my head. “And for the record, my eulogy was perfect. If anybody had cared about that fish beside you, there wouldn’t have been a dry eye on the farm.”

I squeeze her arms, eyes stinging.

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” She lets out a yawn. “I think it’s time for me to get to bed.”

I glance at the clock. It’s not even that late, and Mom always used to be the last to turn in. Is she just aging, or is it the disease? “Yeah, go. I’ll wake Darren up,” I offer.

She pats my arm as she stands, wincing slightly as she shifts her weight onto her bad ankle and limps toward the hallway. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Mom?” I call as she’s shuffling away. “I’m not the only one who shouldn’t shoulder every single problem alone, you know.”

Her smile wavers. “You and Logan are my sons. You’re not supposed to take care of me—I’msupposed to take care of you.”

“Maybe this whole thing works better if we all take care of each other.”

She looks out through the patio door in thought. When she turns back to me again, she grins. “After the wedding. Let Logan enjoy his big day, then I’ll tell him.”

CHAPTER 19

Simmer Down, Chef

Ipark in front of Beatrice and Charlotte’s apartment complex, an unsettling feeling crawling up my spine.

When Beatrice texted this morning, she didn’t say what the issue was. Just that she was sorry to bother me on a Sunday, that something in the kitchen broke down and she needed me to come over at my earliest convenience. It could mean a million things, but I have a sinking feeling I already know.

The damn microwave.

I should’ve just told her I broke it. Should’ve come up with some bullshit excuse instead of getting it fixed myself. But if it’s still not working, if she found out, if she’s pissed?—

I push that thought down as I walk past the usher and take the elevator. I ring the doorbell, and Beatrice opens it a moment later, standing there in her usual pristine way—straight-backed, expression unreadable, not a silver hair out of place. She doesn’t invite me in, just steps aside like she expects me to know better than to linger.

“Chef Coleman.” Her tone is all business. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem. What’s wrong?”

“It’s the—” She waves a hand toward the kitchen as she walks ahead. “The stupid burner. It won’t turn on.”

Relief floods through me, and the tension that had been gripping my shoulders falls away. “Oh. Let me take a look.”

I enter the open space and throw a glance at Charlotte, who’s sitting at the table. Headphones on, she’s drawing on her sketchpad, but her gaze meets mine, and she smirks. Trouble. She’s trouble in a sexy blue minidress.

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