Page 86 of Forbidden Kisses
After four beers, the two stared silently at some game on the TV. Neither liked organized sports. They made random comments at the screen, but Jack’s thoughts were consumed with Grace. She was right. The thing between them couldn’t work. He’d thought it could. He thought he could just avoid her mother forever.
Forever.
That’s what he’d started envisioning with Grace. Man, he should be good at losing the people he loved by now, but it hurt just as bad as it ever did. The funny thing about it was that his mother and Chris were dead. Losing them wasn’t optional. But Grace was alive and well in Blushing Bay. He could jump into his truck right now—if he hadn’t just consumed two extra beers—knock on her door, wrap his arms around her, and kiss her senseless.
But that wasn’t an option, either.
He closed his eyes with the blur of the television announcer lulling in the background. “The spare room is yours.”
“Thanks, bro,” Sam said.
Jack should’ve been thanking him. Otherwise, he would have probably drunk a lot more and tomorrow’s hangover would be debilitating. Jack got up and headed down the hall to his bed. “See you in the morning,” he called behind him, hoping that he’d be able to sleep tonight.
—
“Watch your step, Mom,” Grace said, helping her mother into her car the next week. They’d just wrapped up her mother’s follow-up visit with a specialist outside of town.
Grace shut the door behind her mother and climbed behind the wheel.
“I’m such an inconvenience to you. Mrs. Smith said I could hire an aide to shuttle me around to these visits. Or I could call that cabbie friend of yours.”
Grace started the car, ignoring the conversation. They’d already had it way too many times. “The doctor visit went well, I think. It’s a relief to hear that your new medication is helping.”
Her mother seemed to ignore her as well. They really were a lot alike, which made Grace more proud than not.
“That cabbie friend of yours is single, right?” her mother asked.
Grace glanced over, concern sweeping through her. Dementia was a later symptom of Parkinson’s, but her mother’s memory was usually sharp. “He’s Krista’s brother, Mom. You remember Joey.”
“Ah, yes. He’s a very nice young man if memory serves me correctly.”
“I’m not looking for a man at the moment.” Or ever again if the way she felt right now was any indication.
Her mother clutched her handbag in her lap a little tighter. “You should’ve chosen Jack over me. He made you happy.”
“I shouldn’t have to choose between you and anyone, period. That’s not how it works.” Grace glanced over at her mom while she drove. “And you deserve to be chosen, Mom.” She returned her eyes to the road. “You’ve made mistakes, but no one’s perfect. So stop playing the part of the undeserving parent. It’s unbecoming.”
Her mother laughed. “I thought I ruined your life.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “I was fifteen when I said that. Are you ever going to let me forget?”
“No,” her mother said flatly. “But I have a deal for you. I’ll stop being the undeserving parent if you’ll stop playing my martyred daughter.”
“I don’t play the martyr.” Grace shook her head.
“You gave up college because of me.”
“Because youstolethe college fund that Grandma left me.”
Her mother tsked. “You could’ve gotten a student loan. A scholarship, even. Instead, you resigned yourself to work at a bar for two-plus years and spend all your time and money on me. If that’s not a martyr, I don’t know what is.”
“I did that because you’re sick, Mom. What was I supposed to do? Leave you out in the cold and live it up?”
“Some might.”
They pulled up to a stoplight long enough for Grace to look over at her mother and give her the once-over. “I’m not a martyr.”
“Yeah? When was the last time you did something selfish, just for you?”
