Page 87 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

“No more making me cook everything for an event you’re hosting.”

His lips pinched. “We really did that, didn’t we?”

“Yes. Over and over again. And if I ask you to save me some stuffing, you save me some damn stuffing. All right?”

My brother lifted his gaze to mine, and I saw real remorse in his gaze. He nodded. “All right,” he agreed.

“And no more sending Mom my way to make me apologize to you.”

Aaron’s brows slammed together. “What?”

“She called me. Said I should just let it go and beg for your forgiveness, and did I need anything for the party on New Year’s?”

My brother’s gaze dropped. It looked like the same wave of exhaustion that had hit me was now landing on him. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you. And in exchange, I promise to tell you when you’re asking too much.”

He sighed his relief. “That would be helpful.”

“And if I want to start dating again, you don’t get to say a single word about it except to tell me I look great and you’ll be happy to watch my kids for the evening.”

He was silent for a beat, eyes lifting to meet mine. “Do you? Want to start dating again?”

Not really, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. This was the new me, stiff spine and all. So I just lifted my chin and gave him an arch look. “That’s up to me to decide,” I said, and Aaron’s lips curled into a grin.

“Understood.”

We got up and I walked him to the door. When my brother wrapped me in a tight hug, I hugged him back.

“Love ya,” he said, squeezing my shoulders as he pulled away. “I know we don’t say that to each other all that often, but I do.”

My eyes prickled. “Love you too, Aaron.”

“You sure you don’t want to stop by for New Years? The countdown, at least?”

“I’m sure,” I told him firmly.

He nodded. “If you change your mind, just show up. No need to give us advance warning. The door’ll be unlocked.”

When I thanked him, I did it through a tight throat. Locking the door behind my brother, I let out a long sigh, then climbed the stairs and started the bath again. A few minutes later, I slipped into the warm, lavender-scented water and felt every muscle in my body relax.

I could do this. I could rewrite my relationships with my family, no matter how difficult it would be. I could carve out some space and time for myself when I needed it. I could be more than Zach’s and Hazel’s mom. Iwasmore than Zach’s and Hazel’s mom.

It made me feel strong and in control when the resolve snapped into place inside me, but there was a small corner of my heart where sadness still resided. That sadness curled around an old wound—the one that split open every time I realized I was on my own.

I’d love to have my own knight in shining armor. I’d love to feel protected and supported, to have someone at my back when things became difficult.

Rewriting my relationships with my family would be difficult. Taking time for myself would be difficult. Finding all the parts of myself that I’d let wither away would be a constant challenge. But I’d do it, and I’d do it on my own—because that’s what needed to be done.

The old wound pulsed, and the sadness inside me contracted painfully. But what choice did I have?

It was either grow into a new version of myself, or accept the scraps of everyone’s attention. There would be no knight riding to my rescue on a white horse. The past weeks had been a manic haze of giddiness, lust, and fantasy, and it was time for me to come back down to reality.

I would be my own knight in shining armor, because that’s what I needed to be.

THIRTY-NINE

SEAN

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