Page 89 of The Charm of You

“He’s a very nice young man,” she praises.

“It turns out, he and I have a lot in, um… common.” I clear my throat and take a sip of coffee, treading a fine line here with my own mother.

Sex is a topic she and I don’t approach with a ten-foot pole. She never even had “the talk” with me as a teenager, which in hindsight, would’ve been useful when I lost my virginity to a rockstar-wannabe in college. The guy didn’t even know how to unhook my bra, let alone make sure I was comfortable and taken care of.

Using what little knowledge I’d gained from Cosmo, along with the vulgar insight from my dorm roommate, I managed to navigate that night with as much finesse as possible.

What would it have been like had my first time been with Austin?

Had I paid attention to him in high school, it’s plausible that he could’ve been my first. In fact, had I noticed him at all, my life might’ve turned out very differently.

How should I feel about that?

I set my coffee mug down, then pick up my fork, but I don’t continue eating. As I pick at my eggs, I say softly, “He and I have been talking about Daddy quite a bit. More than I’ve ever talked about him, actually.”

With a laugh, she says, “Whatever for? You should be talking about more pleasant things, sweetheart. You’re young and vibrant, and he’s very interesting with a lot to offer. I’m sure there are plenty of other things to discuss together.”

I purse my lips and brace myself against the sudden tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “Austin knows what it’s like, Mama. He’s been easy to talk to, and he’s surprisingly insightful. He’s helped me a lot.”

“What do you need help with?” She furrows her brow in genuine confusion.

She doesn’t get it, does she? She doesn’t really get me, and this isn’t the first realization I’m having of it.

I’ve never confronted her about it because I sadly believe it’s why we get along so well, and I don’t want to muck it up by tearing down the wall between us.

She’s never paused to address my father’s passing. He was gone in a blink after the car accident, and she didn’t outwardly react. To this day, I don’t know if she’s ever cried over it.

At the funeral, I believe I witnessed a tear slip down her cheek, leaving a flaw in her makeup, but I was such a blubbering mess that it might’ve just been my own tears I saw.

The main reason I know in my heart that she’s been so truly devastated over it is the fact that she’s never remarried. She’s dated in recent years, but nothing has ever stuck.

It seems she goes out with friendly men as more of a social game. Like she misses romance, but she’s never really felt the magic of it as she once did with Daddy.

She can’t move on.

Maybe deflection is her coping mechanism, even if it’s not mine.

On a sigh, I shake my head. “Nothing. Let’s eat before these eggs cool.”

chapter

twenty-eight

CAROLINE

I hold up the earrings next to one ear and compare them to the ones next to the other.

Nothing like a little retail therapy to get me back in the light mood I was in when I sang in the kitchen earlier.

The tune has followed me all the way to Daphne’s Boutique.

Murmuring under my breath, I set the weakest link down and pick up my third option, after which I repeat the process of narrowing them down to one.

“Back again?” Daphne chirps, appearing next to me in the mirror.

“Solo this time.” I smile. “And I don’t have Addie’s commanding opinions in my ear, or Maren’s scrunched, telling nose to steer me in the right direction.”

“Let’s see what we’ve got.” The middle-aged woman studies the two pairs of earrings I’m debating over.

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