Page 87 of Almost Home
I squinted, teasing through that until it clocked. “So you’re saying slow doesn’t matter.”
“Slow. Smooth. Fast. Warp speed. I think what matters is what you and Sarah want. If you’re both happy with how things are going—at whatever pace they’re moving—I suggest that might be exactly right.”
I nodded, letting those words get absorbed, when she continued.
“Have you ever really talked through what happened?”
I shifted, resting my elbows on my knees. “I told you about the apology a few weeks ago. We haven’t said much more than that.”
I tried to read her response to that, but as usual, she kept any reaction under wraps. “So you have not had a chance to share your perspective.”
I tipped my head from side to side, milling through memories. Fact was, I didn’t need to. “No. And as much as I know I need to, I don’t want to drag us through it. But maybe that’s—”Crap. There it is.This was the thing niggling at me, that I kept shoving away instead of inspecting. Instead of facing it head on. “That’s what I need to do.”
She didn’t exactly smile or nod, but something like approval filtered across her face. “When you’ve done that, I suspect the pace, the timing, won’t matter.”
* * *
The session ended well. In fact, I felt great. Not that I’d needed her permission, but it felt good to feel like I had my own. Instead of dreading the conversation to come, I had faith in us. We could face this together and work through it, and then it was up to us to make the rest of it work. And we would.
“If you’re both happy with how things are going…”
I couldn’t speak for Sarah, but I was certainly happy, and that was putting it mildly. I hoped her desire to talk tonight would allow us to identify where we both stood on the matter and to dig into things a bit. Look back a little more closely so we could move forward. Plus, I wanted her to tell me she was happy, too, and then maybe I could relax into this.
“Wilder Saint, what’s got you smiling in broad daylight?”
I turned at the sound of my mom’s voice, noting I had a few minutes before Madeline Reynolds and her crew would arrive at the office. “Hey. Just coming from my therapy session. I have a meeting in ten.”
She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and her soft gaze hit mine. “I’m so proud of you for taking care of yourself.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Really, though. I feel like you’re really home, and it—” She glanced away, then back to me. “It fills me with such joy.”
I smiled—another genuine one. “It’s good to be back. I’m sorry I haven’t spent as much time with you as I’d like.”
She raised a brow. “Oh, I know who you want to spend time with.”
A chuckle escaped, though a thought occurred to me. “Hey, what’d you say to Sarah on Sunday?”
“I said a lot of things to Sarah, why?”
“After dinner. I looked over and you two were hugging. It wasn’t a huge shock or anything but it seemed like a moment, or something.”
“Ah, yes. I think that’s when I told her she could marry you and become my daughter-in-law and that’d be just fine with me.”
Her smug look shouldn’t have surprised me. “Mom. You can’t propose to the woman on my behalf.”
Her brows raised in challenge. “Does that mean you’re going to propose to her?”
Call me a fool or say I’m having a midlife crisis—call it what you will, but I answered her honestly. “Not just yet, but if things keep going the way they’re going, maybe soon.”
A beaming smile exploded across her face and she launched at me, squeezing me tight. “I knew it was going well.”
Despite the session with the doc, I needed her opinion. “Doesn’t seem too fast?”
She shook her head like I was an adorable toddler and not a grown-ass man who had at least eight inches on her. “Darling boy, no. I’d say it’s just right.”
And with that, she pinched my cheek just to razz me, told me to get back to work, and reminded me about Sunday dinner this coming weekend and not to come without Sarah. I assured her we’d be there, and then I worked to refocus on the task at hand. Reynolds meeting for the next few hours and then, we’d figure this out.
