Page 118 of Bountiful
She lifted one perfectly tweezed eyebrow in question. “Like your foolishmother?”
“I didn’tsaythat.”
Mom actually rolled her eyes. “You said that quite a few times. Loudly. So did all of your brothers. When you were teenagers you were so mad at me for waiting around for yourfather.”
Oh, good lord. I didn’t want to have this fight again. “I’m sorry for whatever horrible things I said at seventeen. Trust me, if I could redo that decade of my life, I would. And fate is obviously having a chuckle at my expenserightnow.”
My mother tossed her purse onto the hood of her car and sighed. “Maybe not, sweetheart. Dave might surprise us both. He’s already put a roof over your heads, which is more than your father evermanaged.”
“Heisa good man,” I said, realizing that I’d never doubted that. What I doubted was his ability to love me the way I wanted to be loved. “Maybe our issues are entirely different fromyours.”
“Maybe,” she admitted. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. And when Nicole is grown and pining for some unavailable man, you’ll know just how itfeels.”
“Ouch,” I said. “Touché.”
She shook her head. “My point is that you’ll empathize, whether hers is a good man or not. My heart breaks for all my children. And I will try not to look at your man and see your father. Dave is a hard worker, I’ll give him that. There’s no way to succeed in professional sports without a lot of self-discipline.”
“That’s true.” And Mom had just become the first Rossi to say something niceaboutDave.
“Your father couldn’t stick to anything,” she went on. “He never held down a job, because he was too easily offended if the boss didn’t like his work. And everything that went wrong was someone else’s fault.Usuallymine.”
I flinched, because it was true. “I’msorry,Mom.”
“Me too, honey. Me too.” She grabbed her purse again. “I guess we can’t choose who we love. So I will go up there and be civil to him and hope forthebest.”
“Thank you,” I said, as I always did. But this time it meant a little more. “Thank you for giving him achance.”
She gave me a rueful smile and marched toward the privateentrance.
And I went back into the coffee shop to make more espressodrinks.
The following day,Benito agreed to sit with Nicole for the evening so Dave and I could go out together. “Date Night!” Benitoteasedme.
But that’s exactly what it was. Strangely enough it was ourfirstdate. We’d done everythingbackwards.
We decided to start Date Night at a furniture store in Burlington, as if we were an old married couple. Dave made me laugh by testing all the mattresses. “This one is nice,” he said. “Liedown.”
“They’re all the same,” I complained. “Can you really tell thedifference?”
He tugged me down one-handed. “I can. I like this one, but do you think it’stoofirm?”
“It’s fine,” I said, just like I had for the last five he’dtried.
“Okay. Sold.” Then he rolled over and gave me a kiss. Ahotone.
Embarrassed, I wiggled away. “We’ll try it out properlyafterit’sdelivered.”
He gave me that smile that I’d doanythingfor.
After picking out a coffee table—but not a couch, because I didn’t like the choices—we went out to dinner at Hen of the Wood, one of Burlington’s finest restaurants. Dave draped his arm over the back of his chair, looking like a satisfied king, while I admired him in thecandlelight.
“When are you going to move in to the new house?” he asked me. “I wish I couldhelpyou.”
“Benito will help me,” I promised him. “He wants hisapartmentback.”
Under the table, his leg rubbed against my ankle. “Don’t tell him we broke in that deckchair.”
“I would never!” I yelped, and helaughed.
