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“Oh, yeah?” I chuckle. “And what am I supposed to tell my fiancé when he wonders why I’m suddenly not at home?” Like I’d have to tell Luc anything. The only time he’d miss me is when he realized I wasn’t in his bed to fuck in the middle of the night.
“Tell him—” She places the knife off to the side as she sweeps the contents of the cutting board into a salad bowl. “—that we called dibs on you many years ago, and he simply needs to know his place. He has a problem with that, you can send him my way.”
“Uh-oh. Mama Conners gettin’ territorial!” I clap my hands to each word for dramatic effect.
“Only with my babies.” Grabbing hold of the bowl, she heads in the direction of the dining room, lightly gripping my chin as she passes. “And you’re one of mine.”
I smile, blinking to disperse the moisture attempting to pool in my eyes.
“You staying for lunch?”
“If you’ll have me. You know I can’t turn down one of your homecooked meals.”
“Good. Grab the chicken over there and follow me.”
Hopping down from my stool, I quickly retrieve the platter before following her to the dining room. Placing down the dish, I notice the table’s already set for two.
“You need me to grab another plate? I don’t want to steal Mitch’s seat.”
“No. No. Sit. He called earlier to say he was getting stuck at the office.”
“Well, then.” I plop down, shaking out the linen napkin at my setting. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Shannon chuckles, placing a piece of rosemary chicken in front of me before grabbing a helping for herself. “So,” she begins as she sits, “how are classes? Last semester. You’ve got to be excited.”
“So excited.” My eyes widen at the prospect of being done with school and finally getting my degree. “If I never sit through another class again, it will be too soon. Although, I will admit, I’ll miss being able to play with paint whenever I want.”
“I’m sure.” She laughs. “And how are plans for the interior design business coming along?”
The utensils I’m currently maneuvering to cut my chicken come to a halt as I glance across the table at the woman who is, for all intents and purposes, the closest thing I have to a mother.
My freshman year of college, I decided to take some art classes to piss off my actual mother and ended up really enjoying them—so much so, that I ended up majoring in Art. My mother was so pissed over my “poor life choices” that she didn’t speak to me for a month.
Most peaceful month of my life.
Do I want to be an artist? Absolutely not, but it was amazing to spend four years having the space and freedom to express myself while exploring my creativity. Plus, the experience provided me with endless inspiration for the business I’m currently working to establish as an interior designer. I think it’s something I could really excel at.
Knowing the backlash I’ll face from my parents, I’ve been keeping my post college plans pretty quiet. I think I maybe mentioned them to Shannon in passing once.
“I love you.”
My sudden sentiment catches her off guard, drawing her gaze up to mine. “Oh, honey. I love you, too. You okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just… You remember everything I’ve ever told you. Every dream. Every goal. You’ve never judged me or made me feel like what I wanted in life was stupid or inadequate. You always check on me and ask about my life. Thank you. Thank you for letting me into your family and treating me as your own, even if it meant putting up with those terrible excuses I have for parents all these years. I love you so much, Ma.”
Shannon puts down her silverware and extends her arm across the table. My palm slips into hers, and she squeezes me as she takes hold. “We didn’t let you into anything. You belong with us. We were always meant to find you, Daph. Belinda Burke may have birthed you, but like I said, you’re mine. And I am so thankful for you every single day.”
My tight-lipped smile widens as I fight to hold back my tears.
“Now,” Shannon releases me, resuming her lunch, “tell me about the business.”
“It’s coming along. I should have everything set to launch right after graduation.”
“Graduation. And from Vassar, no less! I’m so proud of you, Daph. And I want to be your first client. The house could do with a makeover.”
“Ma, please.” I roll my eyes. “You have impeccable taste. This whole place looks like something out of a magazine.”
“The bedrooms upstairs haven’t been redone in years. Seriously, I’ve been meaning to get on them. And if you won’t take the job, then I’ll have to pay a stranger that’ll probably overcharge me and screw it all up anyway.”
