Page 161 of Stolen for Keeps
He twirled me, then brought me back to him as he always did. “What’s different?”
I looked at him, all in. “This time, I’m wearing your ring.”
His eyes went tender. We both knew it wasn’t about the ring. It was about everything that came before it, and everything we’d dared to keep.
He kissed my forehead. Then, because he had to be Noah about it, he dipped me deep and showy, one arm beneath my back like we were gunning for a ten from the Russian judge.
The crowd whooped.
Others drifted onto the dance floor, couples swaying in the rhythm that made us forget how long the day had been. I spotted Mrs. Appleby dragging Hank out by the arm, shaking her head but already moving to the beat. Sheryn and Nick moved as if they were the ones who just got married. Claire spun beneath Elia’s raised hand, laughter trailing her as Riley and Logan carved their own path across the floor.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught someone near the edge of the lights. Someone who should be a stranger here, but she wasn’t.
Leah Belrose. My mother. She stood near the edge of the celebration with her shoulders drawn in, as if deciding whether to stay or turn around and disappear.
“Noah,” I whispered, tense against him.
He followed my line of sight. “Go talk to her.”
“What? You know who she?—?”
“Go,” he said again, already guiding me forward. His handrested on the small of my back, then dropped away, letting me go.
I stepped toward her. Half a glance back, I see he hadn’t moved. Just watching, giving me space.
I mouthed,Thank you,without any sound.
He dipped his chin.
She stood stiffly, her hands twisted together. Her mouth twitched with what might’ve been a smile, but it never fully formed.
I stopped a step away. “What are you doing just standing here?” A tear slipped loose before I could stop it.
She lifted her hands, then dropped them again. “I didn’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be,” I said. “You know my mother is always welcome at her daughter’s wedding.”
Her eyes dropped to the grass. “Not after how I left it. Not after what I said.”
I shook my head, unsure where to even start.
She beat me to it.
“Maya,” she quavered. “I spent years blaming you because it was easier than facing everything else. You’ve always fought for the people you love. I just…I couldn’t see past my own guilt. I shut the door on you. I’m so sorry.”
I stood there, caught between wanting to say a hundred things and not knowing which one mattered most. So, instead, I reached for her.
And she met me halfway.
I stepped into her arms and held her like I had all those nights when I was small and scared and thought she could fix anything.
And for a second, she did.
Her embrace was fierce. Familiar.
“Forgive me, Maya,” she sobbed.
“I’m sorry too, Mom,” I said into her shoulder, my tears spilling fast. “For Dad. For all of it.”
