Page 32 of Wood You Marry Me?

I’d take it. After months of being stuck in an office, it felt good to be outside. To be productive.

As usual, my mom had insisted on making breakfast for me, and the scent of her world-famous banana bread floated on the air as she moved closer. She was likely baking several loaves so I could take some home, making up for lost time. Lately, we’d been doing that. I’d spent more time with my mom since Crystal left than I had in years. The two women had never really gotten along, although my mom had always been cordial. And my ex-fiancée had hated visiting, especially after Dad died. She claimed my family home was a “bummer.”

So I’d stayed away. I had all but abandoned my mom when she was grieving. So I was trying to make up for it now.

Since taking a job at the elementary school as a receptionist, she was more alive and engaged than she’d been since we lost my dad. In addition to the job, she had gained two grandchildren this year, Tucker and Goldie, who she loved to spoil rotten.

And who wouldn’t? It was impossible not to fall in love with those kids. I was thrilled for my oldest brother. But a part of me, a tiny part that lived deep in the sad corner of my brain, hurt each time I saw her interacting with them. I always thought I’d give my mom grandkids. But these days, that didn’t feel like a possibility.

Because who would want to have kids with someone as reckless and irresponsible as me?

I shook off that thought and stood straighter. I had to look ahead, not behind, and in my current cranky state, I was more prone to wallowing. Hazel had bartended past midnight last night, and as always, I picked her up and drove her home. Since I’d agreed to be here early to work on the deck, I hadn’t gotten much sleep. Not that I ever did.

Though I would have enjoyed hanging out with Hazel while she worked, I wandered aimlessly at home while I waited for her shift to end instead. I was avoiding the bar right now, keeping myself focused on training.Fewer beers, more pushupswas my current mantra. And it was working. My fitness and focus were both improving, and I had Hazel to thank.

She was loyal and fierce, and my trust in her grew more every day. The way she had lashed out at Paz still amazed me. And that day, I vowed to be the man she thought I could be. Because if someone like Hazel believed in me, then there was still hope.

Mom sat at the outdoor table and waved me over. “Take a seat. I made a fresh pot of that fancy coffee Pascal brings by.”

I perked up. Though I was still annoyed with him, my brother had fine tastes, and it extended to fancy Guatemalan coffee that he imported by the case.

“As I said,” my mom murmured, her eyes teary, once I’d settled in the seat beside her, “I want you to have this.”

I took the small box she held out to me, dread settling in my stomach.

“Open it.”

“Mom,” I started, stroking the soft navy-blue velvet. “I’m not sure.”

She pinned me with one of her looks. ThatI mean businessmom stare that had me making my bed or taking off my shoes in seconds when I was a kid.

“Okay.” I cracked the lid and peered inside. Draped across the velvet insert was a thick chain and a pendant. “Is this…?” I asked, fingering it, feeling its weight.

“A compass,” she replied. “Your great grandpa Gagnon gave it to your great-grandmother on their wedding day. It’s been in the family since. Your dad gave it to me when we got married.”

“I don’t remember you wearing it.”

“It’s big and heavy and old-fashioned. But I had a feeling Hazel might like it.”

“Mom,” I whispered, snapping the lid shut and holding the box out to her. “I can’t.”

“Hush. You can. Dad and I always planned to pass it down to one of you when you got engaged.”

“But I proposed to Crystal almost two years ago.”

She picked a nonexistent piece of lint off her cardigan and hummed. “It didn’t feel right. I didn’t want a precious heirloom around the neck of that stuck-up brat. She probably would have pawned it for eyelash extensions.”

“Mom!” Damn. Loraine Gagnon was a kind woman who was active in the church and spent her free time knitting and tending to her roses. She didn’t talk a lot of shit, but when she did, it was deadly.

She shrugged. “I’ve lived through some things. If I can’t be honest with my baby boy, what’s the point? For you, I tried. But she’s just so rude and entitled. And her parents? They’re from away. Never got how things worked here.”

I had always wanted a partner, a person to depend on. My parents made it look easy. Loving each other through the hard times. Dad wasn’t the world’s most affectionate guy, but anyone with eyes could see how he looked at my mom. And she adored him right back.

When busybodies remarked about how many of us there were, my mom would waggle her eyebrows and say, “I really like my husband.” It made us all gag, but it was guaranteed to shut down the people who stuck their noses where they didn’t belong.

For a long time, I thought that was what I had with Crystal. And that if I gave her an expensive ring and threw her the wedding of her dreams, we’d settle into the kind of love my parents had. One filled with support and understanding and inside jokes.

But now I realized that she’d never wanted that with me. She was holding out for something better. Passing her time with me until she could access her trust fund.

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