Page 120 of Lace 'em Up

Rory squeezes my hand. “Stella, it’s okay,” she murmurs. “My childhood was messy and…well, it’s too much to get into at the moment. Suffice to say, I don’t have a relationship with Stacy, Cathy, or Dessie, and I haven’t for a few years now.”

It’s not okay.

None of this is okay.

I can’t protect her from this shit. I can’t make it so the bad stuff didn’t happen.

I can’t?—

You’re not your father.

I can’t make it okay.

And Christ. That burns through me.

But I shove the voice down, focus on what’s important. “It’s not okay.”

“King,” Rory murmurs, squeezing my hand. “I’m fine.”

“I—” My mom exhales, the sound rattling through the speaker. “King is right. It’s not okay.”

“I don’t mean you, Mom,” I begin. “I mean, I’m over the matchmaking for sure, but”—I look at Rory—“it’s not okay for them to treat you like shit.”

She nods, but I see the battle in her eyes.

It’s hard to hear that.

To accept it.

Because those inner demons are assholes.

“King’s right.” Another breath. “Look, I…it sounds like you both need a moment, and I think it’s better that we discuss this in person.” Her voice gentles. “I was calling to confirm my visit and flight times since Dad’s team is playing on Thanksgiving Day. I wanted to take some food requests and see if you needed help planning the wedding and…” She pauses. “But I understand if you’d both like some space right now.”

A visit from my mother.

I can’t think of anything I want less right about now.

But then she keeps talking.

“I-I know I owe you an explanation, honey. About a lot of things. And?—”

Her voice cracks.

Dammit.

Rory’s fingers tighten in mine. “Stella,” she says gently. “This isn’t your fault. It’s a crappy misunderstanding and?—”

“I should go,” my mom says. “I’ll check in with you both in a couple of days and?—”

I slide to a stop at a signal and glance at Rory, and with that single look, I know we’re both in consensus. “Come for Thanksgiving, Mom,” I say softly. “We can talk about it over apple pie.”

“I—”

“Please,” Rory murmurs, concern in her eyes as they cling to mine. “Your trip was cut short last time. I’d love to spend more time with you. Really.” Teeth pressing into her bottom lip before her chin comes up and she nods once, as though she’s made a decision. “And if you stay through the weekend, you can go to the gala with us.”

“I shouldn’t,” my mom murmurs. “I’ve already overstepped and you’re a young couple, you need privacy.”

“Mom,” I say gently, nodding back at Rory. “Fly out. And stay for the gala.” A beat because I know she’s going to put us off. “Please?”

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