Page 91 of When Sparks Fly

“Whatever you decide, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you this. I want every part of you, Maci. The good, the bad, the ugly. I want to go to sleep with you every night and wake with you in my arms. I want to be the only one lucky enough to see you come apart in pleasure and to share mine with you alone.”

“Sutton—" Tears blur my vision.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He kisses me tenderly. “And this isn’t about what just happened. There are no words for that. Either way, you need to know that I’m all in. You’re it for me.”

Chapter 39

Maci

Ahead of lunch with Stephanie, my anxiety is through the roof. Our mother-daughter connection was damaged long ago. There has been so little attempt on her part, or desire on mine, to rectify the situation. It’s hard to want a relationship with someone who insists all of your emotions are too big, too bold, too rash. As if emotion is unwarranted and I’m here to appease other people.

I can’t imagine what we have to talk about. Certainly nothing that truly matters.

The air is finally beginning to cool, though it’s not an overly crisp day. The wind gusts casually and the sun has stayed low, a large amber orb in the sky.

We never discussed where lunch would take place, but it will be a cold day in Hell before my mother is caught underdressed. I choose a green, long-sleeve smocked dress and knee high suede boots. It’s a young, sophisticated look and dressier than usual for me, especially with my hair pinned up on one side, so she shouldn’t have much to comment on.

I’m past the point of caring whether or not Stephanie has an opinion, but sometimes I pick my battles. Especially going in blind, like today.

She arrives with a flourish, sweeping through the door grandly and calling loudly for me despite my location in the living room. Something she would know if she’d take a beat to observe. “Maci Grace!”

Her stilettos tap on the entry floor. She looks lovely in her pink, organza blouse and sleek, black pants. “I’m right here, Stephanie.” It’s an effort to keep my tone pleasant, but an effort I make because I’d at least like to try and start on the right foot.

The deep sigh she expels tells me it doesn’t work. “Let’s get going. I’m meeting Randi here in two hours and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Are we taking your car?” I slip my leather crossbody on and lock the door as I follow her onto the porch.

“Yes. I’m not driving around in your death trap.”

She’s not even trying.

“It’s not a death trap. That model is one of the most dependable years, too.”

“The point remains.”

At the restaurant, a German establishment on the river, she requests a patio table. As soon as we’re seated she begins her usual.

“I’m surprised you chose that dress.”

The laminated menu snaps against the table as I set it down firmly and force a pleasant smile. I can’t convince my eyes to soften yet. “You look lovely, Mother.” Again, I choose the high road. My tone is genuine because the sentiment is.

Stephanie blinks. Her menu drops softly before her. Momentarily, she purses her lips in contemplation.

When she says nothing after a moment, I allow my gaze to wander, taking in the residents and tourists milling along the street. Though River Road is a main entrance to town, only a few locales have storefronts here. The majorityof people are feeding ducks, against the warning of the posted signs, and walking, running, or biking along the riverfront trail.

“Alan wants to contest the will.” Her voice is matter-of-fact, but it wouldn’t make a difference how she said it, I’m not even a little surprised.

The server approaches with our drinks, offering to take our order. When she’s gone again, I finally respond.

“I’m not surprised. All he’s ever concerned with is status or assets.” She pins me with a long, hard stare.

“I’m not going to do it.”

My eyebrows jump. “I’m surprised you aren’t moving forward with it, since Alan wants you to. But like you said while you were here for the funeral, you took what was sentimental to you. Your life isn’t here.”

“Your life isn’t here, either.” She folds her hands in her lap, minute movements jostling her arms. My gaze narrows. Have I always missed her fidgeting this frequently? Certainly not. She’s always impeccably composed.

“You’re right. I started building a life in Austin. But I’m young, it’s a lot easier for me to move. Nothing is truly tying me there.” Her eyes widen slowly. “My best friends are here. Liv is here, and I would love to have a stronger relationship with her.”

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