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I have no choice but to shake my head, confirming the seriousness of my statement. Admitting her son is married to a woman whose family history of violence did not skip a generation.
To my surprise, Helena offers me a bright smile, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "Darling girl. You are a gift."
My eyes suddenly start to burn, and I blink, trying to clear the discomfort. It's not until I try to talk, that I realize the irritation comes from tears. Tears brought on by the same emotion that makes my voice a little wobbly when I say, "Thank you."
Having Fynn shower me with compliments and affirmations is one thing, but getting them from his mother hits differently. Right in a spot that never expected to experience something like this. I'd given up on ever knowing what it was like to have a mother or father who loved you the way they should. Figured it simply wasn't in the cards for me, and I tried to be okay with it. Tried to find my peace with that lack.
But maybe I can have it. Just for a little while.
I gently squeeze her hand back, returning her smile. "I'm not sure Jessica feels the same way. I'm pretty sure she hates my guts."
Fynn’s mother slides her hand from mine offering a dismissive wave. "Who cares what that one thinks. She’s only out for herself. It was clear from the beginning her interest in my son was self-serving." Her eyes come my way. "Of course, as a mother I couldn't come out and tell him that. He's an adult and needs to be allowed to live his own life." Her lips hint at a smile. "Even when he's wrong."
Now I love his mother even more. Her willingness to step back and let Fynn make his own choices shoots her right to the top of my list of favorite people. She'll have to share that position with her son, but I don't think she'll mind. "She did admit that the reason she spread those rumors was because she was mad he wouldn't marry her."
Helena shakes her head, rolling her eyes toward the vine covered beams above us. "That's not surprising. Anyone who knows Fynn knows he's not a man who has affairs. He’s loyal to a fault."
A pit forms in my stomach, because that loyalty is likely the reason I'm sitting here now. Instead of being back in my little room in Crystal's apartment, fresh out of an annulled marriage, trying to figure out how to keep myself from ending up dead.
I know the ‘ending up dead’ part should be what bothers me most about that scenario, but it’s not. What has that pit turning into a gut-wrenching twist is the part where I’d be without Fynn.
And now I'm thinking I'd probably also be missing his mother.
Nicholas comes out carrying two trays. He sets one in front of Helena, before sliding the other in front of me. My stomach growls in spite of its current upset when my gaze lands on the beauty before me. "Holy crap." I don't think I've ever seen a more appealing plate. "This looks amazing."
Set before me is a gorgeous, likely insanely expensive, piece of floral painted china. The scalloped-edged plate is topped with the fluffiest looking omelet I have ever seen. Bits of chive flake the puffy yellow cloud, and some sort of soft, white cheese oozes from the fold. Next to it is a scattering of crispy potato chunks and two thick links of sausage.
But that isn't all. After aligning the plates, he gives each of us a green glass bowl filled with brightly colored, juicy-looking, fresh fruit. I’m pretty sure nothing could top this breakfast.
And then he hands me a Mimosa.
"Nicholas has spoiled me." Helena reaches out to rest one hand on his arm, a look of adoration and appreciation glowing across her face as she stares up at him. "I rarely go out to eat anymore because nowhere comes close to offering the kind of meals he creates."
There it is again. An honest to goodness, heartfelt compliment. Offered up easily and happily. It makes me feel wonderful when they're aimed at me, but I’m starting to learn that I enjoy seeing them given to others equally.
And it makes me want to start dishing out as much of my own gratitude as I can. "I can see why." I meet Nicholas’ gaze, hoping he can see my sincerity. "Thank you so much for this. I know I kind of jumped in here at the last minute and I appreciate you making me breakfast so very much."
His gaze on me is nearly as warming as the rays of sun peeking through the pergola. "I am more than happy to cook for you anytime you want, Ms. Valerie." He gives me a wink. "You ladies enjoy your breakfast."
Then he slips away, leaving me to attempt to look somewhat civilized as I start shoving in mouthfuls of my beautiful breakfast. I can't stop the moan that slides out when I get my first hit of the omelet. "Holy crap on a cracker this is amazing."
Fynn's mother looks pleased at how much I'm enjoying myself. "Isn't it?" She takes a small bite, chewing through it before leaning a little closer, her eyes on me when she says, "I've been thinking..."
I stop chewing because I'm not sure if I like the sound of that. What if she's thinking Fynn and I got married way too fast and now she’s suspicious of the reasons behind it. What if she's thinking I'm not good enough for him? That would be a wild coincidence since I've been sort of thinking the same thing.
"You were such a help going through my vision boards for this new line I'm working on, and I wondered if maybe you would be interested in helping me organize a launch party."
I swallow, relieved and surprised. "I would love that."
I’m not exaggerating. I worked so hard on my degree. Genuinely loved every minute of it. Business and marketing speaks to me on a soul level. Marketing especially. It's all about showing people how wonderful a product is and why they should be eager and excited to have it. I’ve spent my entire life trying to do the same with myself. With products, there was a chance it would actually happen.
Helena holds up a hand. "I don't want you to feel pressured. You can tell me it's not something you're interested in. I won't be offended."
"I would love to help you." I sit up a little straighter, wanting her to understand how grateful I am that she's offering me this. "I haven't really had much of an opportunity to use my degree since I moved to Sweet Side, and I would love to get back into it."
Back in Minneapolis, I worked for a decently sized company, helping train their sales staff, incorporating marketing strategies into their skill set. It was wildly effective, and sales went up exponentially, earning me more than a few bonuses and promotions. During the five years I worked there, I was able to tuck away the bulk of my earnings, ultimately planning to start my own marketing firm.
And then my father told me he found the perfect man for me. Initially, I believed it was just a set-up of sorts, but everything moved so quickly, and before I knew it I was engaged with a wedding date set less than a month out. I was trapped and if I dared even insinuate to my father that I wasn't so sure about what was happening, he layered on the guilt. Using my own worst qualities against me. Dangling the hope of making him happy and proud right in front of me, knowing full well the payout would never come.
