Page 95 of Outcast’s Vow

“We’re here now,” he mutters. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

He’s so awkward it’s cute.

Mina lets out a little chuckle, as if she’s thinking the same. She gives me another smile and waves me inside.

“Please step into my home, Sylvie.”

“Thank you.”

We take a seat on the well-worn couch in the living room. It’s cozy in here. There are quilted throw blankets over the back of the couch and fresh flowers in a vase on the small table. There’s a stack of cookbooks by my feet. In the corner is a TV that’s old but spotless.

“You want some coffee?” Mina asks us. We nod in the affirmative, and she busies herself getting the brew ready for us.

I am so curious. This house is like every other house on this street. It’s lovingly cleaned and decorated. Nothing beyond the ordinary. Baptiste never mentioned anything like this. He’s never even told me the name of his mother, and yet he’s brought me along.

No one meets her.

Except for me today.

We drink Mina’s coffee.

“How’s everything going?” Baptiste asks her sternly. “Are you okay?”

Mina looks at her son with a smile and the same kind of calm that says she’s answered this question a million times before, like this is the routine every time he visits.

“I’m perfectly fine, Baptiste.”

“Are you sure? You’re still seeing your friends every couple of days? Do you need anything from me?”

I can’t help but notice his leg is shaking. There’s so much pent-up energy coursing through him. I’ve never witnessed Baptiste so anxious and fretful before. This is a new side to the man.

“You’re sweet, Baptiste,” Mina reassures. “But don’t worry, I’m okay.”

“It’s a beautiful home you have, Mina,” I remark, nodding at the sweet collection of knick-knacks on the shelves above the TV. Golden sunlight filters through the windows.

“Thank you, Sylvie. Such lovely manners. My son could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Sylvie’s learned a few things from me,” Baptiste growls in reply.

“I’m glad I can sit down with you at last,” Mina says to me. “Like with everything else in his life, he’s kept the details of you hidden from me.”

“Same with you,” I reply.

“It’s good to put a face to a name. Let’s start at the beginning. How did you two meet?”

I glance warily at my husband.

“I guess you could say Baptiste found me,” I say.

Mina chuckles.

“Baptiste has always been the one to get what he wants,” she says.

“Tell me about it.”

Baptiste has barely paid attention to our conversation. His focus has been on scanning the room, searching for any issues or faults.

“I’m going to take a quick look around the house,” he announces, standing up. “Make sure there’s no mold or anything broken you’re hiding from me, Mom.”