Page 66 of Welker

Bette kept going. “Mike, Kyle, Cisco, and Doug brought my son back to the world of the living. But what they couldn’t do, was assuage the hit he’d taken to his masculinity which was still dogging him, so he started trolling the bars.”

“And you know this because…?” Moira didn’t understand anything about mothers, but she was pretty certain men didn’t share their fuck-business with their matriarchs.

“Because his sister told me. And because I have eyes,” Bette responded. She glanced to the door. Seeing Welker still busy at the grill, she continued. “His friends were only part of the healing equation. I guess those anonymous women were another. But…” This is where Bette smiled. “Several months ago, we noticed a change in Welk. Callie, Sabira, and I talked about it at length, but it seemed Welker’s catting-around days had, inexplicably, come to an end.” Bette threw a sly glance at Moira. “We had our suspicions that maybe his attention had turned to someone who could be more…permanent in his life.”

Moira gave a huge gulp while dredging the potatoes out of the water one-by-one to send them through Welker’s antique ricer. “You know we’ve only been seeing each other for a week,” Moira reminded her.

“I know. But he’s had his eye on you for a lot longer.”

Welker had said she’d been a person of interest to him for a while. But to know he’d stopped seeing other women because of her…? That was enough to make Moira tear up.

Never, had a man put her above anyone else, and even when Welker had professed his love for her earlier, Moira had just assumed he meant it for now. She didn’t expect to be his be-all and end-all until death-do-they-part.

Her supposition, as far as her past had taught her, was just simple math. People were added to her life, people were subtracted. She’d never been special enough to be the complete answer to anyone’s equation.

“I…don’t know what to say,” Moira finally managed, stirring butter and milk into her potatoes.

“There’s really only one more important thing to share, Moira.” Bette laid out her final question. “Do you love my son?” She pierced Moira with the same, dark, intense stare as Welker’s.

“I do,” Moira admitted, a tear escaping from the corner of one eye. It was a lot to take in. A man who loved her. A mother willing to open her arms.

Bette’s face took on the look of someone close to tears, as well. She reached over and squeezed Moira’s arm. “Welcome to the family, Moira.”

They both sniffed.

The moment lasted a mere few seconds before Bette got an impish look in her eyes that told Moira the tough stuff was over.

“Now can we talk about my future grandchildren?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

As they finished up their excellent meal, Welker sat back, satisfied, and not simply because his stomach was comfortably full.

Nope, he was happy for Moira.

He’d known that his mother was going to love the woman he’d fallen for. He only hoped Moira forgave him for throwing her into the lioness’s den, but truthfully, that was the only way to deal with his mother. If Bette had glimpsed the slightest bit of timidity or duplicitousness in Moira, if she’d thought that Welker was protecting his new girl from her, she would have pounced on those weaknesses. But clearly Moira had passed her tests with flying colors, and the way the two now had their heads together—thick as thieves over something—they were a coherent pair for life.

Welker’s heart soared.

It had taken thirty-four years, and now Moira was finally going to get the mother she deserved, but never had.

“Well, time for me to go.” Bette eventually stated. She gave Moira a hug and slid from her stool, her feet hitting the floor with a thud. “And don’t worry, honey,” she told Welker with an absent pat on his arm. “Greg will take good care of me.”

Welker didn’t doubt that. Bette could goad most people into dancing to her tune, and the newest man in her life didn’t stand a chance.

Bette turned to Moira. “I’m so pleased you’re part of the family now, Moira. And as soon as you’re not on lockdown anymore, we’ll have to hit that boutique I told you about.”

Moira, instead of rolling her eyes, actually looked delighted at the prospect, which made Welker want to laugh, but he refrained. It was never smart to interject oneself into a conversation like that, if a man valued his jewels.

After some prolonged goodbyes at the door, Bette drove away and Welker reset all the alarms. He then turned to put his arms around Moira, kissing her soundly.

She pried his arms away and backed up, giving him an amused, stink-eye. “I was going to hand you your ass for leaving me alone with your mother,” she told him with a smirk. “But she’s…really something, and I’ve chosen to forgive you. Not that you should do something like that again, but it’s all cool now, and I adore her.”

She slid back into Welker’s arms and blew on his ear.

Welker shivered. “I’d take you upstairs right now and show you how much I appreciate that, but we have a kitchen full of dirty dishes.” He sighed.

“Mmm. Kitchen. I think we can make that work,” Moira winked.

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