Page 108 of Crazy In Love
“Aren’t I always glum?” I grumped as the snowflakes came down around us.
“You’ve got both your mamas here, if you want to talk about it.” She shrugged. I wanted to say something nasty, remind her that no, they weren’t both here. But I didn’t need to be cruel.
I scrubbed a gloved hand down my face. “I’ve just been busy with work.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep.”
She studied me for a few seconds. “It sounded like you and Emilia had a nice time in Paris. Was it just a professional trip?”
“Have you been reading ‘The Taylor Tea,’ Mother?” I lifted a brow before tipping my head back to look up at the sky. The snow was coming down harder now.
“I always read it. It’s my guilty pleasure.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that they print that shit?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I mean, there have been things I haven’t appreciated. But we live in a small town, and it’s the things people are saying, either way. So I don’t take it too personal.”
“It’s a ridiculous column. I’m starting to wonder if maybe Emilia’s parents are writing it. Their sales are up, and they seem spiteful enough to be the ones who are actually pulling this shit off.”
“You’re avoiding the question. I didn’t ask who wrote ‘The Taylor Tea.’ I asked if there was any truth to you and Emilia going to Paris for other reasons than business.”
My mother was someone I’d never lied to. But this was an easy answer because of the way she’d worded the question. “Emilia and I went to Paris to look at a fireplace for the home renovation.”
She chuckled and then turned to face me as the white flakes landed on her black eyelashes. “Did anything romantic happen while you were there?”
“Emilia is a beautiful woman. She’s smart and funny and driven. But we aren’t dating.”
“Avoiding the question again, which means I have my answer.” She turned back to look at my mother’s gravestone. “I know you don’t think you’re worthy of love, but you couldn’t be more wrong, Bridger. You brought love into our lives when there was only darkness. You were the light that saved me.”
“Mom. We don’t need to talk about it,” I said. “I know how much you and Dad love me. I’ve had a great life. I’m not struggling.”
She leaned against me. “Why is it a bad thing if you are struggling, honey? You’ve got to lean on the people who love you, and tell us what you need.”
“Maybe I already have everything I need.”
I mean, in my defense, there would be good reason not to let people in. Look at my track record, for God’s sake. But of course, my mother, the saint of all saints, would never see it that way.
She sniffed a few times, and the chill in the air made it hard to take in a full breath.
“How about we head home. It’s cold as hell out here.”
“Okay. I’ve got your birthday dinner all prepped, and everyone will be there soon. Let’s head home to celebrate you,” she said.
I wasn’t a dude who had any desire to celebrate my birthday, even if you took out the fact that it was also the day that my biological mother died. Or that I spent every single birthday at the cemetery.
I just didn’t feel the need to celebrate the day I was born.
But I did it for this woman beside me. Because it meant something to her.
And she meant everything to me.
“Sounds like a plan.”
She turned back to the place where my mother was buried one last time. “I love you, my sweet sister. You’d be so proud ofthe man your boy has grown into. He’s so much like you. And I love him enough for the both of us.”
She found my hand and we walked back to where my truck was parked, and we drove the short distance to my parents’ house.
