Page 13 of The Love Playbook

Mom leans back, peering at me over the rim of her mug. “You know he’ll never replace your father.”

I shake my head, because that’s not what I’m concerned about. “It’s not about that.”

“Is it about the things Charlotte said?”

I nod. “Can’t say it didn’t give me pause.”

Mom reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. “I know all about Garry’s relationship with his ex and why they got divorced. I also know about his dating history afterward, so I’m not going into this blind. Things aren’t always as they seem. Charlotte might be upset with him, but there’s a lot more going on than what’s on the surface. She’s hurting, and I can’t say I blame her. Still didn’t stop me from hoping her reaction might be different, though. The kids are thrilled, especially Quinton. They’re practically begging me to run off with him and elope, which makes me realize just how desperate they must be for a male role model now that you’re gone.”

Mom shrugs, and I feel the weight of her words like a javelin to the chest. It seems I can’t be everything to everyone like I’d hoped, at least not while I’m securing my future.

“I guess no matter how good of a mother I am, I can’t replace their father,” she says. “And even though you were such a good influence on them, you’re all grown up”?she ruffles my short blond locks with her free hand?“and you have your own life to lead. Selfishly, I was really hoping you and Charlotte would instantly be on board because that would make everything so much easier. We can get married without her blessing, but Iknow it’ll hurt Garry. And what hurts Garry, hurts me. The last thing I want is to start a marriage on cracked foundations. What if it destroys their already brittle relationship? Will he resent me? Will it break us?”

Mom swallows, blinking away the moisture in her eyes, and her unshed tears nearly break me. There’s nothing worse than seeing your mother cry. I spent the bulk of my childhood controlled by the threat of her tears.

“First of all, if this is what you want, you know I’m excited for you,” I say, genuinely meaning it. “No one deserves this more than you, and I will support you, one hundred percent. And second, underneath Charlotte’s woolly exterior is a soft center. She’s like a PayDay bar. Kind of crunchy on the outside and a little rough around the edges, but smooth and sweet on the inside. She’ll come around.”

My mother hums a noncommittal sound like she doesn’t believe me, and though she tries to smile, it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not so sure. I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “Maybe I was naive, and honestly, a little selfish, but I pictured her and I becoming friends. I imagined shopping together and picking out our gowns. After six boys, I thought it might be nice to have another woman around.” She huffs out a bitter laugh and the sound lances me in the chest. “Silly, huh?”

My stomach squeezes.

Fuck.

She’s on the verge of tears; I can feel it like a fucking barometer?the heaviness in the room, the emotion hovering above us like a storm cloud. Any minute the skies will open unless I can find a way to release the pressure.

“Not silly,” I say, and then because I can’t help myself, “I’ll talk to her. I can change her mind.”

Mom barks out a laugh. “You sure about that? I saw the way she looked at you, and her reaction to discovering you’re my son wasn’t exactly a positive one.”

I grin, thinking of Charlotte’s whip-smart tongue and her rosebud lips curved into a frown. I wouldn’t mind going to war with either. “Oh, now that’s just how Lettie shows affection. She actually adores me.”

Mom snorts. “Chris, I don’t think?”

“Leave it to me. Before long, you’ll be picking out gowns and getting mani-pedis while you trash talk the men in your lives. If anyone can sway her, it’s me.”

If anyone can sway her, it’s me?

Was I fucking serious?

I step outside onto the front porch as I shake my head. I have as much pull with Lettie as a wet rag.

I twirl my car keys in my hand as the cooling autumn air wraps around me, sinking its fingers beneath my hoodie and chilling my bones.

I like the cold. It clears my thoughts, helps me think. The cold for me is football weather, pumpkins, leaves, corn mazes, hot cider, and bonfires. It’s all the things I love about fall.

My breath puffs in front of me in a cloud of vapor as I stare out at the road in front of me when Garry’s voice cuts through the silence. “Well, that didn’t go as well as I hoped.”

I glance toward the sound to find him sitting on the wooden swing at the far end of the porch, hunched forward, his hands clasped between his knees.

“It didn’t go great,” I confirm. If I blame anyone for how poorly today went, it’s him. Whether it’s warranted or not, Charlotte is his daughter. Their relationship is his to nurture.

“Is your mother okay?” he asks, his voice gravelly with concern.

“She’s okay now. I made her a cup of tea, and she took it into the den.”

I can’t blame her for being upset. She really wanted Charlotte to like her, and it would be hard not to take Charlotte’s anger at their impending nuptials personally. Still, it sucks that my mom finally found the chance at happiness, and it can’t just be easy. After losing my father almost seven years ago to an unexpected aneurysm and raising six kids on her own, she deserves everything easy and good that comes her way.

“I love your mother,” Garry says, staring down at his hands.

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