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“I want to reach out to my father.”
Her shoulders went right up, her defenses springing into action. She hated to be asked about the man who had knocked her up and refused to man up and marry her, or at the very least, be in his children’s lives.
“Asher, why are you bringing this up again?” she asked softly. A misty look filled her eyes. “Am I not enough for you?”
I swallowed the hot protest that swelled my throat. “That’s not fair. I never said that.”
Mom shook her head, tiny and frail and hitting me hard with guilt. This was what always happened. Asking her about my father shook her so bad, I always dropped the subject, sometimes for years at a time.
“I just wish you could respect my decision to put that man in the past instead of dragging this idea around and never giving me peace,” she said.
The guilt intensified.
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry.” I got up and went to her.
A tear made its way down her face and damned me to Hell. I never wanted to upset this woman, the best one I knew.
“Forget I asked,” I soothed her and brought her into a hug.
We stood there, the woman who had sacrificed everything to give me a good shot at life and her ungrateful son, until we heard the front door open.
Eve’s voice drifted through the house, followed by the deep tones of Beckett. My mom drew back, all pulled together now. “Let’s have a nice dinner, shall we?”
I watched her go to greet my sister and Beckett and checked my phone.
Could you make it sound more like you don’t want me there? Thanks for the invite. See you in half an hour. W x
Winter
I’d never been to a boyfriend’s house for dinner before. I was nervous. Of course, Asher wasn’t my real boyfriend, and I had no business coming here and involving myself with his mother, except to mess with him. I’d initially agreed to come because of how reluctant he’d been to invite me. Just one more way to annoy him.
Now, though, clutching flowers, chocolates, a gift bag of hand care products, and a bottle of wine, I was having second thoughts. Sure, I’d come to mess with Asher, but what if his mom hated me? What if she was mean to me? I fought the urge to turn and run away.
I’d rung the bell and waited only a few seconds before the door opened. Asher’s big body stepped out and shut the front door behind him, forcing me back a little on the porch.
“Um, I think you’re supposed to let people into the house when you answer the door, not join them outside,” I nervously laughed.
He looked nice. He was wearing a black button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black jeans. I was immediately glad I’d worn a dress. I had a vague idea that Asher’s mom might be religious, and Sunday might be her dressing-up-for-church-and-seeing-family kind of day. It looked like I was right.
He folded his arms over his chest. “Why did you come, Ice Queen? Two boring family meals in a row seems excessive.”
I wet my lips. “You invited me,” I reminded him.
“Yes, but like I’ve said before, my mom is off-limits.”
“I’m not going to attack her,” I exclaimed.
I just wanted to see where you grew up and meet your mom, the most important woman in your life. I want to see what kind of single mom could raise a son like you. I wanted to be closer to you, just for a second.
I didn’t say any of that, however. Instead, I shifted from heel to heel and finally raised my hand.
“I brought gifts and I’m hungry…Can I come in?”
He stepped back and let me past him.
“Shoes off,” he commanded firmly, then watched me as I took off my strappy heels.
I followed him nervously through the house to the kitchen. The food smelled amazing, and there was the faint hubbub of people talking and laughing, relaxed and happy.
