Page 50 of No Greater Love
I turned to find my mother in the doorway, an empty platter in her hands.
"Regrouping," I corrected.
She set the platter down and moved beside me. "Your young man is quite something."
"He's not 'my young man.' He's just... Nate."
"Mmm-hmm." She busied herself loading the dishwasher. "He's good with people. Respectful. Even got your brother talking about something besides his practice." She closed the dishwasher with a decisive click. "And that girl of his. She's lovely, Tasha. Bright. Well-mannered."
"She is," I agreed cautiously, waiting for the criticism that usually followed her compliments.
It didn't come. Instead, my mother said, "He looks at you like you hang the moon."
I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"When you're not watching. He looks at you like..." She hesitated, uncharacteristically searching for words. "Like you're the answer to a question he's been asking for a very long time."
Heat crept up my neck. "Mom?—"
"I'm just saying. I see it." She turned to face me fully. "Does he make you happy, Tasha?"
The question echoed Grandma Rose's earlier comments and Marcus's skepticism. Did Nate make me happy? It seemed too simple for what we were to each other.
"He makes me... more," I said finally. "More honest. More myself. More willing to try things that scare me."
My mother's eyes softened. "Then that's enough for me."
She reached out, adjusting the strap of my dress with a familiar gesture that transported me back to childhood. "You've always been my stubborn one. My fighter. Even as a little girl, you had to do everything your own way." Her hand lingered on my shoulder. "It used to worry me. Now I think maybe it was preparing you for this."
"For what?"
"For loving people who need your kind of strength. That man out there—he carries something heavy. I can see it in his eyes. And that child, growing up without a mother..." She squeezed my shoulder. "They need someone who doesn't back down. Who isn't afraid of the hard parts."
My throat tightened unexpectedly. "I don't know if I'm that person, Mom."
"I do." Her certainty was absolute. "You get that from me."
The kitchen door swung open, and Nate appeared, looking slightly overwhelmed.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "But your grandmother is insisting Paige try her secret recipe banana pudding, and I'm concerned about the amount of bourbon I watched her add to it."
My mother laughed. "Don't worry, the alcohol cooks off. Mostly." She patted his arm as she passed. "I'll go rescue your daughter."
When we were alone, Nate leaned against the counter, exhaling heavily. "Your family is..."
"A lot?" I supplied.
"Extraordinary," he corrected. "Overwhelming, yes. But extraordinary."
I studied him. "You look tired."
"I am," he admitted. "But it's a good tired. Like after a challenging shift when everything went exactly right."
I moved closer, drawn to the quiet space he created even in my mother's chaotic kitchen. "And did everything go right today?"
"I think so." His hand found mine, fingers intertwining. "Your grandmother threatened me with bodily harm if I hurt you, but she also gave me her secret cornbread recipe, so I think I'm on solid ground."
I laughed. "Grandma Rose doesn't give that recipe to anyone."
