Page 34 of Holiday Love
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. How can I deny her? My terminally ill mother. As crazy as this moment is, this is the most energetic I’ve seen her in months. The last thing I want to do is take that light out of her eyes.
I can’t look at Teddy as I say it. I’m too scared to see his reaction. “Sure, Mom.” I force a smile. “We’d love to come over.”
“Good!” She beams, arranging the gingerbread men on my counter next to the salt and pepper shakers. “I’ll just leave these right here. They’re perfect for this spot. Don’t you think?”
Like a puppet with my head on a string, I nod. “Perfect, Mom. Everything is perfect.”
As soon as the front door clicks shut behind Mom, I collapse face-first onto the couch with a groan that could shake the foundations of the building.
Teddy, still in my purple robe, ambles over and flops onto the other end. “So…that happened.”
I lift my face just enough to glare at him. “Why didn’t you deny it harder?”
“I did!” He throws up his hands. “You saw me. She had the mom energy of a woman who’d throw a casserole dish at my head if I said no.”
“She does have that energy,” I admit, the words muffled against a throw pillow. “She once smacked a rude director with her purse during a community theater rehearsal. Broke the clasp.”
“See?” Teddy leans back, resting his arm on the cushion. “I value my life—and my skull.”
I sit up and toss a pillow at him. “You were wearing my robe.”
“I didn’t have a shirt on,” he says defensively. “She walked in, and I dove for the first thing I saw to cover up. I’m just glad you left it on the counter.”
I groan again. “You didn’t say we weren’t dating.”
“Youdidn’t tell her you got suspended,” he adds gently.
I wince. “Yeah. That’s kind of the problem.”
He softens immediately. “Helen…”
“I know. Iknow. I should’ve told her. But she’s going through so much already, and this whole suspension thing…” I let out a shaky breath. “It makes me feel like a failure. She already thinks I work too much. That I’m too serious. If she finds out I lost the one thing I care about most—”
“You haven’t lost it,” he says, his voice firm. “This isn’t the end.”
“It feels like it.” I slump back on the couch, and the room falls quiet.
“What did you mean about her going through a lot?” Teddy asks.
I pick at a loose thread on my sleeve, stalling. Saying it out loud always makes it more real. “She has breast cancer.” My voice catches, so I clear my throat. “Metastatic and progressing, although slowly. That’s why I moved back to California. To be close to her and help out.”
“Jesus.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m so sorry. I know what that feels like.”
I sigh. “I know you do. That’s why I didn’t bring it up the other night. I didn’t want to remind you of everything you’ve gone through.”
He moves closer on the couch and lowers his face until it’s level with mine. “You don’t have to do that.”
“What?”
“Protect me. I can handle grief. Maybe I can even help you with everything going on. I wish I’d had more people to talk to when it happened to my dad. My friend Jamie was there for me, but the rest of my friends were too young. I can be that person for you. The one you talk to.”
Something warm spreads in my chest. It’s a nice thought. To have someone who understands. I haven’t told anyone about Mom’s diagnosis. Not even Gwen, for the same reason I kept it from Teddy.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
For a moment, he studies me, like he’s turning something over in his mind. Then he draws in a slow breath, hesitant. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“You’re wondering why my mom’s white?” I guess. His expression says I’ve hit the mark, and I’m not surprised. Although I do have my mom’s high cheekbones, most of my features are from my dad.
