Page 44 of Second Chance Serenity

Liam offers Michael a smile and leaves first, but before I can follow him out, Michael comes in and shuts the door, standing in front of it and crossing his arms so I can’t get out. His gaze lands on the box, and his expression darkens.

“Already proposing? That was fast.”

He’s jealous. Why do I like that he’s jealous? “Wouldn’t matter if he was, would it? You and I are finished.”

“You don’t know him very well.”

“I thought I knew you better than I knew myself. And look how that turned out.”

He lets out his breath and uncrosses his arms. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be. My dating life is not your concern anymore.” I shove past him and head out into the hall, making my way to the kitchen table. My mother has added the two leaves and additional seating so that she, my dad, myself, Sheriff Vick and his wife Cate, Liam, Michael, and Jaxson can all fit at the table with room to spare.

In the center of the table are multiple containers of serve-yourself food. Spaghetti, a salad, meatballs…it all smells absolutely delicious, but one look at Michael and my appetite is gone.

To my surprise, dinner was relatively calm despite Michael and Liam sitting across from each other. My ex-boyfriend engaged in friendly conversation with my mother while completely ignoring the guy that I’ve been on two dates with. Unless the library doesn’t technically count as a date—then it’s only the one.

I wave goodbye as Liam leaves the house, then turn back to the living room where Jaxson has engaged my dad in a deep conversation about the motor on his ’67 Mustang GT.

Michael’s in the kitchen with my mother, washing dishes as she dries and putting them away. Seeing them there hurts my heart. She’d adored Michael too, and honestly, I think she’d been just as heartbroken as I was when he bailed.

He just fits. And I hate it.

I make my way into the kitchen and force a smile. “Great dinner, Momma. I can take over the dishes.”

“I don’t mind,” Michael replies.

“Liam make it out okay?”

“He did.”

“Good. He’s a sweet man.”

“He is.” I keep my responses short so she won’t try to get me to elaborate, then begin putting containers of leftover food in the refrigerator.

“Oh, honey, I finished crocheting fifty baby blankets. Think you can take them to the shelter when you head to Boston?"

Michael freezes mid-plate-washing. “Boston?” he asks, setting it carefully back into the sink.

“I host a charity banquet every year.”

“Not this year.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to go check on your father.” My mother slips out of the kitchen and leaves me glaring at Michael.

“You are absolutely not going.” Michael’s expression is furious as he dries his hands and turns to fully face me.

“You don’t get to tell me no.”

His gaze is piercing. “When it comes to your safety, I do. This is my job. Our job,” he corrects quickly. “And taking you into the very city where the car your attacker used was stolen from is in direct conflict with your well-being.”

“You don’t know that he stole that car. It could have been a coincidence.” But even I know better than to truly believe that. “And Boston is a huge city.”

“Exactly. A huge city you could be swept away in.”

“The event has security. And we can bring on more. I can’t miss it, Michael.”

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