Page 97 of Sliding into Love
I turn to find my mother approaching, looking phenomenal in a floor-length emerald gown that matches her eyes. She'spetite but commanding, the kind of woman who can silence a room with a look.
Right now, that look is directed at me.
"I'm not moping," I protest.
"You absolutely are. You've been standing in this corner for twenty minutes, glaring at your phone like it personally offended you." She plucks the champagne glass from my hand and sets it on a passing server's tray. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Everything's perfect. You did an amazing job?—"
"Royce." She takes my hand, her expression softening. "I'm your mother. I know when something's bothering you. Talk to me."
I glance around, making sure no one's close enough to overhear. "I invited someone. To be my date. And they haven't responded."
Understanding dawns on her face. "Kenneth?"
“Yes, ma’am.”
"Sweetheart, you two weren't exactly subtle at that team dinner about your attraction. Finn texted me pictures. Plus, Bellamy can't keep a secret to save his life." She squeezes my hand.
"I know he's been busy, and I know his last week with the team was emotional, but…" I trail off, not sure how to articulate the fear gnawing at me. "What if he doesn't want this? What if being with me publicly is too much?"
"Or," Mom says gently, "what if he's just busy and hasn't seen the message? What if you're catastrophizing because you're scared?"
"I'm not scared. And he did see the message. It shows he read it.”
She raises an eyebrow. It’s the same one I inherited. The one that says I know you're lying.
"Okay, maybe I'm a little scared," I admit. "Things have been complicated. With the team transition ending, with my other work, with everything. And I know I'm asking a lot of him, coming here tonight, being seen with me in front of all these people. Plus our history.”
"You're asking him to be your partner, which is exactly what he signed up for when he chose to be with you. Stop selling yourself short, Royce. You're an incredible person doing incredible things. Any man would be lucky to stand beside you."
"Even with all the complications?"
"Especially with all the complications. Those complications are what make you who you are." She cups my face, the way she's done since I was a child. "Now stop hiding in corners and go mingle. Smile. Charm people into opening their wallets. And stop checking your phone every five seconds."
"Yes, ma'am."
She kisses my cheek and glides away to greet a couple I recognize as major donors. I watch her work the room, effortlessly connecting with people, making them feel seen and valued. It's a skill I've learned from her, though I've never quite matched her natural grace.
"Your mother's right, you know."
I turn to find Dad standing beside me, holding two glasses of champagne. He offers me one and I take it gratefully.
"About which part?" I ask.
"All of it, but particularly about you catastrophizing." He takes a sip of his drink, surveying the room with the calm assessment I've always admired. "You get that from me, I'm afraid. The tendency to assume the worst."
"Great. Inherited anxiety."
He smiles broadly. “It's served me well in business. Less well in personal relationships. Your mother spent our first yeartogether convinced I was going to leave every time we had a disagreement."
I look at him in surprise. "Really? You two have always seemed so solid."
"We are now. But it took time. And trust. And a lot of honest conversations about what we both needed." He turns to face me fully. "Good things take time, Royce. Relationships aren't built in a day, or even a month. They're built through consistent effort, through choosing each other over and over again."
"What if he doesn't choose me?"
"Then you'll survive it. You're a Bellport. We’re resilient. But I don't think that's going to happen. I've seen the way that young man looks at you. Like you hung the moon and stars." He squeezes my shoulder. It’s a comforting touch.
