Page 138 of The Promise Of Rain
“It was.When I was a child.Now I’m a man and I have a new favourite,” he replied, his eyes were hard.
So, I was mashed potatoes, and she was apple pie?
If the whole situation wasn’t so sickening, I’d have laughed.
Taking my hand, Deacon led me down the hall and through the kitchen.
His father looked up, his eyes wide.“What’s going on?”
“We’re leaving,” Deacon stated.“I don’t know what Mom’s problem is, but until she sorts it out, we won’t be back.”
Looking past his father, he saw the box of cinnamon buns on the table.Scooping it up, he snapped, “These are mine.”
“Son—”
Deacon shook his head.“No, Dad.Just no.”
In the car, I said only three words, “Take me home.”
He pulled into his driveway, and it took me a moment to realize ‘home’ was now here.
By the time we got inside the house, I was incensed.
“I’m so angry,” I whispered, my voice shaking as I shed my coat and stalked through the kitchen to the family room.
“I don’t blame you,” he replied, coming up behind me and turning on the lamp.“I’m sorry—”
I turned on him, eyes blazing.“You have nothing to apologize for!”
“I know.”He grasped my upper arms and rubbed them up and down.“But I still am.”
“No, Deacon.”I pulled away and crossed my arms over my chest.“I’m sorry you’re in this position.Maybe you should have a relationship with your parents without including me.”
With every step we took forward, the fault lines in our foundation shifted.And Deacon was the one set to fall through the cracks.Turning his back on his parents would break his heart.
And it was too late for him to walk away from me without suffering the same.
“That’s not going to happen,” he growled, watching me closely.“They’ll come around.If they don’t, I won’t.”
Panic clutched at my throat.I didn’t deal in drama and lies.
This was not who I was.
Sitting across the table from his parents, I was a fraud.
Three of us in that room understood the undercurrents, while the best of us sat in the dark, his hopes for family reconciliation making him a naïve fool.
It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and despite what I told his father, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it from him.
“There are things you don’t know,” I hedged, pacing back and forth in front of the couch.
Things I desperately wanted to tell him.
He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes hard and determined.“I don’t care.”
I do.
I didn’t want to live my life defending my right to love their son.
