Page 163 of Keep This Promise
“Yes, yes, of course,” she says, stepping back and pulling her coat tight around her.
I open Sophie’s door first, helping her out. When she starts to shrink into herself, I pull her beside me, placing my hand on her back. “Mama James, this is Sophie Pearson.”
“Peterson,” Sophie corrects.
“Sorry, Peterson. I’m a little nervous,” I try to explain the slipup that I know wasn’t one as I pull open the back door. “And that little girl is Eden.” She’s passed out in the back seat, which is probably better for everyone while I explain this.
I have the story all in my head, but one look in my aunt’s hazel eyes, and I can’t do it. I can’t lie to her. She has been my rock through most of my life, and I have done everything to be the man she helped raise.
“Almost four years ago, I met Sophie at a club in Las Vegas. I was drunk and took advantage of her, not even bothering to get her full name or number. She went back to England, found out I’d gotten her pregnant, and we just reconnected. I’m assuming the tears in your eyes when you look at Eden mean that you know as well.”
Mama James covers her mouth with her hand and then looks in the back seat. “She’s your daughter.”
I nod. “She is.”
Then her gaze moves to Sophie, and she moves forward, pulling her into her arms. “My sweet girl, you are an angel for taking care of that baby without help. You are an amazing woman.”
Yeah, she is, both of them are.
* * *
Being worried about how we were going to explain everything turned out to be pointless. What I should’ve been concerned about was Mama James trying to embarrass me. That is what her freaking mission is. She’s shown baby pictures, brought out my report cards, notes from girls in high school, and now the insane woman is busting out my wedding album.
That’s where I draw the line.
“No more,” I demand evenly to Mama James. “Please, you’re ruining my image.”
“You don’t have an image other than the one of your pants being around your ankles as you pass out,” Mama James scolds.
Yeah, Sophie shared that little tidbit.
“It wasn’t my ankles,” I mutter. It was my knees, but whatever.
Eden comes running in, holding Pickles, the cat that will never go away and hates me. “Mummy, can we keep Pickles?”
Sophie smiles. “No, darling, that’s Mama James’s pet.”
She clings to him, the cat purring in her arms. “I love him. Can Santa bring me a cat?”
“He looks like he loves you too,” Mama James says with a grin. “You should bring him to...” She looks to me, confusion glinting in her eyes. I know she wants to say my name but probably doesn’t know what Eden calls me.
“Holden,” I finish for her. I turn to Eden. “And, no, you shouldn’t bring him to me, he doesn’t like boys or anyone with a soul.”
Mama James scoffs. “That’s not true. He loves Eden, me, Sophie, Spencer, and Emmett just fine. And I should take a spoon to you for that comment.”
“Well, then he doesn’t like smart men who have a soul.”
That cat has been the bane of my existence since he showed up. He stalks me, coming close then backing away, toying with me and trying to keep me on my toes. Then, just as I drop my guard and assume he is going to leave me alone, he attacks. I have had more scratches from this stupid cat than I care to admit.
Afterward, he’s docile and lies in Mama James’s arms with a smile. I swear, the cat smiles only once he’s drawn blood.
“I don’t know what you did to Pickles, Holden, because he is the sweetest cat to everyonebutyou.”
“Sure, I must’ve done something.”
Sophie walks over, petting Pickles as he rests in Eden’s hold. “He seems quite calm.”
“He really is the most wonderful cat.”
