“Here, Mom, let me help you,” I offered.
She nodded, and we started making stacks and piles. Desserts went into one pile, flowers went on the kitchen table, and cards went in another stack to be taken to Clare so that she could write thank-you cards.
“I can write the thank-you cards,” my mother objected.
“So can Clare,” I countered. “You’ve done enough. Let us help.”
“I just don’t want anyone thinking I’m ungrateful.”
“No one is going to think that, Mama.”
She smiled. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”
“What? Mama? Yes, I have.”
“No, you haven’t, not since high school.”
“Oh…well, it wasn’t on purpose,” I said, scratching my head.
“I know, sweetheart.”
We continued to make headway through everything, and I stole a muffin from a giant stack. My midday mowing in the middle of summer had left me starving.
“Mia brought those over yesterday,” she mentioned, pointing to my muffin as I shoveled it in.
“Mia was here?” I said between bites.
“Mmhmm.”
“Why?”
“To offer her condolences and to spend some time with me.”
Confused, I looked around, like I expected her to suddenly appear and explain herself. “But why?” I asked.
“What do you mean, Garrett?”
“Why would she come see you after—” I started but stopped myself.
“I have no ill will toward that girl, Garrett Finnegan. I loved that child, and I still do. That hasn’t changed, no matter what happened between you two.”
I grumbled under my breath and continued to pick at my muffin. It was still delicious, and that pissed me off.
“You need to find a way to move past your anger,” my nosy mother said.
My eyes flew up to hers. She’d set down the cards she was going through, and she was now looking at me with that motherly expression that made me feel like a small child again. It was the same expression I’d seen over and over throughout my youth, the one that told me I was being stubborn and needed to get over myself.
Well, I had news for her. I might be stubborn, but I had grounds this time.
“Mom, you don’t understand—”
“I do,” she interrupted.
“You couldn’t possibly.”
“No? I couldn’t possibly understand how difficult it might be for a young woman—still a child herself and probably under great pressure at home and elsewhere—to make a monumental life decision?”
How could she possibly know anything?
I looked into her eyes, the same eyes that had been staring back at me since birth, and I knew she was calling my bluff. She knew.
“How did you find out?” I asked quietly.
“You were never good at hiding things, Garrett,” she answered.
“The note.”
She simply nodded. “I wish you had come to us. I knew you were hurt and grieving, but you wouldn’t talk to me. I was afraid if I said something, you would lash out and tell me I didn’t trust you. I was so scared, Garrett.”
“She aborted our child, Mom,” I whispered.
“She was eighteen, Garrett. Have you ever asked her about it?”
“No, I can’t. I don’t want to know the details. I couldn’t live with that,” I said, shaking my head.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of finding that note and realizing Mia had made that monumental decision—without me. I’d had no idea of where she was, no way of saving that little life Mia and I had created. She had taken that away from me.
“The two of you need to talk about this—maybe not now but soon. I saw the way you looked at her at the funeral. Whatever you think you can’t forgive, you can.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how, Mom. I love her, but every time I see her, all I see is the past.”
She gave a faint smile and reached for my now empty hand. “Reach into the past and remember the reasons you fell in love. Hold on to that, son, and cherish it. Then, you must start moving forward again.”
Chapter Seventeen
~Garrett~
Letting out a huff of breath I’d been holding since the purr of the engine had died down at the curb, I pushed the doorbell and waited.
How many times had I found myself back at this exact spot, standing on Mia’s doorstep, after I’d sworn I would never return?
How many times did I have to stare at the front of this door, waiting for her face to appear, to realize I’d keep coming back, week after week, day after day?
An enthusiastic bark from inside came barreling toward the front door, and I heard a familiar giggle.
“Hold on, psycho!” Mia laughed, her voice carrying.
She flipped the lock and pulled the door open to find me on the other side, holding flowers like a dork. As her eyes took in the gargantuan bouquet I was balancing with the bag of groceries, I stole a moment to sweep my gaze down, focusing on her every delectable inch. My fingers twitched to touch her again.
“Um…hi,” she said awkwardly.
“Hey,” I responded, finally meeting her gaze.
She looked at me expectantly and shifted on her bare feet.
Oh, right, the flowers. “My mom wanted me to drop these off for you,” I said, handing over the flowers. “She has about a million bouquets sitting around the house, and she hates the idea of them going to waste, so I’ve been playing delivery boy for most of the afternoon.”
“Oh,” she replied, realizing this was probably the only reason for my visit.
“I, uh…also brought groceries if you’re interested in dinner?”
Her eyes lifted, and I flashed her a quick grin.
“Okay,” she agreed, stepping aside to let me in.
The smell of her citrus-scented skin invaded my senses. I’d spent hours that night in my bedroom licking and kissing every inch of her body in an effort to commit it to memory. My memories hadn’t done it justice, and my body instantly wanted more.
Sam jumped up and down at my invasion into the house. He’d taken a liking to me ever since that day in the shelter, and the feeling was definitely mutual. After giving Sam his proper greeting, we wandered into the kitchen, so I could drop the bag of groceries. Mia started rummaging through her cupboards for a vase.
“Oh…looks like you’ve already gotten a flower delivery today,” I said, noticing a large bouquet of roses on the kitchen table. I fingered a soft petal between my fingers, and then I noticed a card wedged among the many multicolored buds.