Page 89 of One More Chapter

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Page 89 of One More Chapter

“He’s taking over Ed’s business though, right?”

“Yes, which is why he’s all the more frustrated. He needs to be in control, and everything has slipped right out of his fingers. He’s overseeing all of the current projects, but can’t get his hands on the tools. Hell, he’s probably barking up their asses over at Anthony’s place right now. I wouldn’t put it past himto be sour as a grape all evening. He’s so opposite of his older brother.”

Ah. Sneaky woman. I was wondering how long it would take to bring up her eldest.

“Have you been taking care of my boy?”

“Ant does pretty well for himself,” I say, tiptoeing around the question I know she’s dying to ask.

“I worry about him. He’s struggled to find his place all his life, but I haven’t seen him this happy in years.”

She levels me with her gaze, and I begin to wonder if we’ll be speaking in non-sentences all evening, until she finally stuns me with a question.

“How’s Margie been?”

I choke on my wine. Catching the bit that dribbles out with the back of my hand, I set down my glass and find a paper towel, distracting myself in that while I answer.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Last I heard, she was in Vegas with some new schmuck. I wonder how long it will take him to realize she’s just after his money.”

I’m not usually this frank with my bitterness, but Deb gets it. She was there for all of my mom’s ups and downs. She and Ed helped us out on more than one occasion before I finally had to step in and say something. Our vacation two years ago was the last straw.

“I just don’t understand where it all went so downhill.”

I don’t think Debbie meant to say that aloud, and I pretend I didn’t hear it. The silence between us says all that we do not. We both wish my mom was better than she is. We both wish my mom could just, for once in her life, make a stable choice.

And I wonder where I get my craving of a foundation from?

I want to tell her everything. Everything a girl should want to tell her momma.

I want to tell her about my books, and how I’m waffling on my career. I want her to tell me to go for my dreams, to take the book tours that Rafe has been dangling in front of me and live formefor once.

I want to tell her about her son.

How I fell head over heels in love with him, only for him to break my heart at the bottom, and how he’s picking up those pieces one by one and putting them together with his bare hands.

I want to tell her how much that scares me, and I want her to tell me to trust my heart, to give him a second chance.

The guys choose that convenient moment to barrel through the front door all at once. Debbie and I pass each other a knowing look to pin this conversation for the time being. By the looks of it, she can see all of those unsaid wishes written clear as day on my face.

“You all had better wash up. I don’t need sawdust in my side dishes!”

Anthony’s brothers and father come in the house first, kissing the matron of the house on the forehead or cheek before passing me a grunt or salute in greeting. They leave Ant for last, and just the sight of him sweaty from a hard day’s work, but still wearing that sunshine smile for me, has my heart doing backflips all the way into my belly.

“Hey, boss. Glad you could make it.”

He approaches me, crowding just enough so that I have to tilt my head back to look at him,justenough so that I can smell the cedar and jasmine deodorant mixed with the scent of hard work emanating from him. It’s enough to make me heady.

I scrunch up my face and cross my arms to stop from wrapping myself around him and inhaling.

“I heard your mom was making lobster rolls. Sounded better than a frozen pizza.”

He shakes his head and laughs in that disbelieving way, like he can’t help but saying,God, this girl.

He reaches out and cups my head, and time stops. We’re in the middle of his kitchen, and his mother isright there, for crying out loud. He must realize it in the way I freeze. His eyes widen, and to cover, he shifts his bear paw to the top of my head and ruffles my hair like we’re teenagers.

“I’m gonna go shower.”

“Good.” I nod, then swallow the lump of desire that’s burning in my throat.




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