Page 4 of Prince of Her Heart
“I know, Mom,” she said, smiling as she glanced down at the menu.Not that she needed to.
Tilda snapped hers shut.“Don’t you sass me, Tabitha Jones!”
Tabitha blinked, confused.“I didn’t sass—”
Tilda leaned forward with a glare.“Today is your birthday.Twenty-eight years ago today, I was sitting in a donut shop, enjoying a perfectly fine maple bar—when you decided to ruin it.”
Tabitha sat back, lips twitching.
Tilda humphed as she continued reminiscing.“I couldn’t eat that donut becauseyoudecided to come into this world early.”She smiled fondly now.“I wasn’t ready!I had plans!I had errands!But no, you had to be dramatic.”Tilda’s lips flattened into a line of righteous indignation.“And then you stopped.Started coming, then just… stopped.”She nodded her head for emphasis.“You wanted me to suffer.”
Tabitha stayed quiet, biting back a smile.She knew the routine.This tale had been told every year of her life.
“You came into this world just like you live in it—on your own schedule, with zero concern for anyone else’s timetable.”Tilda huffed and shook her head, her silver curls sparkling in the sunlight.“You gave me heartburn and missed your due date by a week.”
Then, just as suddenly, her mother softened.She reached across the table, placed her hand gently over Tabitha’s, and smiled.
“But it was the best twenty-four hours of my life.You gave me purpose.”
Tabitha squeezed her hand.“I love you too, Mom.”
She picked up her menu again, more for show than anything.She already knew what she’d order.She wasn’t hungry, and this wasn’t even her favorite restaurant.Luxe was stuffy, overpriced, and the food was pretentious.
But her mother loved it.
So Tabitha ordered the spinach salad and a glass of sparkling water while Tilda requested the grilled salmon, her go-to dish.She never made salmon at home—claimed it was impossible to do “right.”Luxe, however, made it exactly how she liked it.
Tabitha, meanwhile, quietly endured the smell.The things you did for love.
She waited until their menus were taken before glancing at her mother.“What’s Dad up to lately?Still puttering around in the wood shop?”
For the next hour, Tabitha smiled politely as her mother detailed every woodshop project her father had started but never finished, the miraculous recovery of the neighbor’s tomato plants, the church yard sale, and the rude new bank teller who “needed Jesus.”Tilda adored small-town life and most of its residents.
But not all.
There were two people they never mentioned.That was part of the unspoken pact they’d made years ago—and even Tilda respected it.
Until the salmon arrived.
“Are you coming home for the pre-wedding party?”Tilda asked casually, slicing into her fish.
Tabitha froze mid-bite.“I’m sorry?”she asked, nudging a mandarin orange slice around on her plate.She feigned confusion, but the question hit like a slap.Her stomach tightened instantly.
“Don’t even try it, love,” her mother said with a warning glance.“I know for a fact Stacy sent you an invitation.”Another bite of salmon.Another volley.“She hoped you’d be her maid of honor.”
Tabitha blinked.Her appetite—what little she had—vanished entirely.
“Why did you turn her down?”Tilda asked, eyes narrowing as her fork hovered in midair.“You and Stacy have been through everything together.Her wedding is the perfect time to show her how much she means to you.”
And that was the problem.
Stacy did mean the world to her.But even Stacy had understood why Tabitha couldn’t stand up in that wedding.
“Mom, you know why,” Tabitha said quietly, setting her fork down.She hated spinach.She hated her birthday.She hated this entire day.All she wanted now was to get back to her office and see Ram—
Well.Hear about the outcome of this morning’s meeting.
Her mother’s expression softened.She set her fork aside and reached for Tabitha’s hand, her fingers warm and familiar.“I know Martin hurt you, darling.But at some point, you have to move on.”
