Page 65 of The Girl I Once Loved

Okay, Mom.

I can play hard ball too.

“I mean, Noah was never outright mean, but he never quite accepted you, either. I’m curious as to what changed,” I add before taking a sip of my champagne, pretending the small talk topic I chose to have with my mother doesn’t faze me one bit.

“Does that upset you? That we’ve found enough common ground to be more than just civil with each other?” she counters with a gentle tone, making it very hard to be upset with her.

“Why would it upset me? Like I said. I just find it curious. Peculiar, even.”

“I’m not sure peculiar is the right word to define our friendship.” She grins sheepishly. “But you’re the wordsmith in our family, not me.”

Gosh darn it.

The woman is good at evading my attempts to get to the bottom of things.

Now I kind of see where I got it from.

“Maybe if I understood how it all came about in the first place, I’d understand it better,” I insist, careful to keep my tone calm.

“Fair enough.” My mom nods. “I guess it happened organically over the last few years. But then again, life has a way of sneaking up on you like that, and what is true one day, doesn’t mean that it will remain so forever. A person’s life is like the seasons of the year. Ever changing. Ever evolving,” she explains, looking deep into my eyes as if searching for something. “In Noah’s case, I believe he finally made peace with his grief and realized that to honor his mother’s memory, that didn’t necessarily mean he had to keep me at arm’s length or even hate me. I think when he managed to let go of his pain on that front, he was able to see the love that had always surrounded him and finally accept me as part of his family. Because that’s what we are. A family who cares for each other and always will. A family who forgives and accepts us for who we are inside.”

I’m unable to hide the hurt in my gaze at how my mother so easily found it in her heart to repair their relationship, when she’s made no attempts to mend ours. But as she continues to stare deep into my eyes, I wonder if her rant about Noah was also directed at me.

If I’m completely honest with myself, today has been the first day where I haven’t kept my guard up around my mother. Maybe it had something to do with us visiting our old haunts on the mainland, or maybe she’s as desperate as I am to reconnect.

“Are you ladies ready?” the store attendee asks, pulling our attention away from each other to focus on my sister. From my peripheral, I don’t miss how my mother’s shoulders sloop a tad, as if disappointed we weren’t given enough time to continue on with our conversation.

But all those lamentful thoughts go out the window when Daisy walks into the room and steps onto the pedestal.

My heart stops.

My mother grabs my hand and gives it a tight squeeze, suffering from the same reaction.

“Daisy,” my mother coos, her eyes watering.

“Too much?” my sister asks, pointing at the small tweaks she made to her dress that somehow managed to make it even more breathtaking.

“No words. I’m speechless. You’re beautiful,” I choke out, feeling my own tears burning at the corner of my eyes.

“Do you…do you think he’ll like it?” she whispers while staring at her own reflection.

“Derrick?” I ask, wiping away my tears. “I’m sure he’ll fall even more in love with you than he already is.”

A shy smile crests her face.

“I still can’t believe it. My baby is getting married.” My mother sobs beside me, unwilling to let my hand go, needing me to keep her from losing it completely.

“Neither can I,” Daisy jokes, her own blue eyes starting to water.

“That boy better treat you right. I won’t be responsible for my actions if he doesn’t,” my mother warns between sobs, her protectiveness shining through.

“I know just the spot to bury his body if he even thinks about not treating our Daisy right,” I pile on, wrapping my arms over my trembling mother’s shoulders as we continue to be in awe of Daisy in her stunning white gown.

“You two have nothing to worry about. Derrick would never dream of hurting me. In all honesty, it’s a wonder he wants to marry me at all after everything I put him through.”

“Love is more powerful than reason, sweet girl. Derrick loves you. And take it from me, when a love is that strong, that pure, it always finds a way,” my mother says, and this time when she gives my hand a squeeze, it feels as if those words were meant for me as much as they were directed at my sister.

I hold onto my mother’s hand and don’t let her go, as her words begin to sink in down into dark corners of my soul that I’ve desperately tried to stay clear from.

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