Page 92 of Meant to Be

“Yes, please,” I said. “I’ll take a bourbon. Neat.”

She nodded, then walked past the baby grand piano, over to the bar cart, surveying the bottles. “Is Knob Creek okay?” she said, glancing back at me. “It’s all I have. Uncle Mark finished the last of the Blanton’s.”

“Whatever’s fine, Mom,” I said.

“Would you like a drink, dear?” my mother asked Berry when she joined us in the living room.

Berry declined, sitting on the far end of the sofa, an awkward gap between us. No one spoke until my mother returned with my bourbon—and a martini for herself. She handed me my glass, hovering over me.

“Thank you,” I said, looking up at her.

“You’re welcome,” she said, finally settling in her armchair.

As I took my first sip of bourbon, I got a strange feeling of déjà vu. I realized it was more of a flashback to the week of my eighteenth birthday, when the two of them had ambushed me with their lecture on Nicole. This time, though, the tables had turned. Clearing my throat, I began to speak.

“What happened in the Hamptons can’teverhappen again,” I said as boldly and clearly as I could.

“Joseph—” my mother said.

I held up my hand and said, “Please. Let me finish.”

My mother’s eyebrows rose with surprise, but she only nodded, falling silent while I continuedmylecture.

“I can’t make either of you like Cate,” I said. “Nor can I force either of you to approve of her. In fact, I know you do not. Cate doesn’t have the pedigree you’ve always felt was important. Not evenclose. She didn’t go to college, and before you read about it in the press, I should tell you—she never graduated from high school.”

I paused, letting this information sink in, almost enjoying the shock they tried to mask with wide-eyed nods.

“That’s fine,” my mother said, her eyes flicking over at Berry.

“I know you don’t think that’sfine,Mother,” I said. “I know you’rebothjudging her right now…and I know you both think she’s not good enough for me. That I should be with someone more like Margaret.”

I paused, daring them to deny it, relieved when they didn’t.

“But if you want a relationship with us—withme—you’re going to need to keep those opinions to yourself,” I continued, now on a roll. “Because I don’t care whatanyonethinks of Cate. Not the two of you. Not the press.No one. My opinion of Cate is the only one that matters here. And I happen to think she is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. She’s strong and independent and completely self-made. She’s alsobrilliant…and as worldly as any girl I ever met at Harvard—and much more authentic.”

I stopped abruptly, remembering that this wasn’t a sales pitch or a closing argument in a legal case. I didn’t need to convince them of anything; I just had to make it clear what I wasn’t going to tolerate moving forward.

“So yeah. That’s all,” I said. “Please keep your two cents to yourselves. Because I love Cate. And she is here to stay.”

Silence filled the room, but I made myself sit in it, waiting, until Berry finally cleared her throat and said, “You’re right, Joe. I’m sorry.”

Floored, I stared back at her, unable to remember a single time in the twenty years I’d known her that she’d simply apologized with no strings or explanations orbuts.

“Thank you,” I said, nodding.

“I’m sorry, too,” my mother said. “We were just worried about you—”

“That’s no excuse,” I said.

“I know,” my mother said, looking down.

“I’m in love—and I’m really happy.”

“And we’re happy for you,” she said.

“Yes,” Berry said, nodding. “And just so you know—likingher was never the issue.”

“No,” my mother said. “She’slovely—”

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