Page 69 of Hard to Break

“See? Thank you.”

“What if this is the last thing you put on?” Miles holds out a bead with a heart on it.

It’s cute. It would look pretty good with the pattern I’ve already made.

“Fine,” I relent.

The lounge is full of residents and family members clustered around tables.

Some are making beaded accessories, others knitting, a few creating scrapbooks with photos and brightly colored paper.

“This is nice,” I say.

“They have family activities every weekend,” Grams says. “I like getting to meet new people and introducing them to Miles.”

“You aren’t ashamed of me?” Miles asks with a smile.

“Well, there was a pool going over whether you actually did it.” Her whisper is conspiratorial, but her words set me back.

I’m not the only one. Miles stills, and it’s only for a second, but it’s enough that I know he’s thinking about it.

“I hope you made some good money on it,” I tease.

But I reach under the table and squeeze Miles’s hand to let him know I’ve got him.

When I start to pull back, he holds on. His blue eyes are a thousand feet deep.

I could lose myself in this man.

I already have.

The past few days, the feelings are so big I could explode from them.

“Speaking of families”—she turns to me—”I see your mother on TV. I’m planning to vote for her.”

“She’ll be delighted to hear that,” I say solemnly.

Grams leans toward me, lowering her voice. “But more than her, I have confidence in you. You’re good for him you know.”

My throat gets tight. I’m grateful to be spending this time with the woman who raised Miles. She’s so supportive of him and welcoming of me.

Before I can respond, another lady calls Grams over to show her the scrapbook she’s working on.

“She’s really great,” I tell Miles, my voice unusually rough.

“Yeah. I’m glad we moved her.” Miles releases my hand and goes back to his work. “I’m guessing your mom isn’t my biggest fan right now.”

“It’s not you.” I recall her expression when I packed my things to return to Miles’s, unsurprised and yet somehow disappointed. “It’s her stubbornness. She thinks her way is the only way.”

“She also wishes you were with some hotshot lawyer.”

“You’re a hotshot too,” I tease.

“Hot shot bracelet maker you mean,” he responds.

“Oh yeah? Let’s see it, then.”

He’s been sneaky about his project, but now he holds it out.

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