Page 146 of One More Chapter

“Part of me didn’t want to, but this one was a little personal,” she smirks, then softens. “I’m just glad you two found your way back to one another.”

“Me too. Although, I’m beginning to wonder if you had something to do with it…” I lift a brow as she blanches,Who? Little old me?written all over her expression. “I’m sure the ‘couple who booked the townhouse’ enjoyed their little Valentine’s getaway.”

She doesn’t apologize—or justify—like I thought she would. Instead, Debbie’s cheeks turn the color of pasta sauce.

“What?” I chuckle. “Did you not have renters at all? You could’ve just?—”

“I couldn’t leave Margie like that.”

The phantom of her words is the same as my mother’s name in my vocabulary. Debbie swallows and gathers herself.

“She’s been my best girl since we were kids. I don’t know what exactly made her go from the Margie I used to know to a woman with dollar signs in her eyes. She saw what Ed and I cultivated from the ground up, and that was all she could strive for. It became her vice. And her two babies suffered because of it. It was the least I could do—giving her the townhouse. I’ve been sending her half the money we make on rentals since the beginning, but somehow, that was never enough. What she needs is stability to make a fresh start. The house is paid off. She’ll get back on her feet one day. It’s the least I can do. She gave us you.”

I built up a front a long time ago where toughness equated not crying. Now I know better. Crying makes a way for emotions to breathe.

With tears in my eyes, I wrap her in a tight hug. One I wonder if I’ll ever be able to feel from my own mother again someday. For now, I have the people I need in my corner.

“Deborah!Whyare you making the woman of the hourcry?” Ant says, returning with twin champagne glasses. He keeps one for himself and slides the other in front of me; Rafe offers one to Debbie, and the guys take their seats.

“We’re just talking about how far you’ve both come.”

“They’re happy tears. I promise,” I nod with a watery smile.

The rest of dinner is filled with laughter—and a few baby photos, courtesy of Debbie. Ant booked her a room in the same hotel, and she promises to say goodbye before we jet off to Chicago in the morning.

We’re lying in bed, talking over the highlights of the day, Ant tracing little doodles on my back while I simply revel in the anchor that I have with my body against his.

“I didn’t know she gave it to your mom,” he says softly. “Does it bother you?”

It’s a question I’ve been flipping around in my head like an overcooked quesadilla. I still don’t have the answer.

“I don’t know. I mean, she’s my mom, but when has she ever beenmy mom?I feel like…”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair and letting it tangle there.

“Hey.” Ant tilts my chin with his thumb. “The beauty of it is? You don’t have to decide right now. Enjoy the present. Enjoyright now. When you’re ready, at least you know where to find her.”

I chuckle humorlessly.

“I doubt she’s going very far.”

Shaking my head, I draw a heart over his with my fingertip.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Ant tilts his head in question. Flattening my palm on his chest to give me leverage to press up, I use my other hand to cup his face.

“I have all of the people I need right here in my corner.”

Kissing him anchors that truth into place.

fifty-seven

anthony

eight months later

The sandbetween my toes is a little chilly. There’s never a guarantee that Florida beaches are going to be warm in December. Three years ago, we got lucky. This year, we’re both bundled up—me in a pair of sweats, and her in my oversized sweatshirt that hangs down to her knees. It’s all good, though. Her hand in mine, coupled with the raging bees of my nerves, makes up for the warmth.

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