The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(55)

I think she might, though. I was pushing myself, making changes and doing the scary things. I thought about kissing Wyatt, how I never would have done that before all this. I smiled to myself, playing with a thread on the arm of my camp chair. My mom would have loved to hear how I had kissed a boy. She would have been excited to hear that I had made the move.

Were all these things enough? Would my mom look down at me and say, yep, that’s my girl, she’s killing it? Or would she be disappointed still?

“What’s going on in that head?” Wyatt’s voice was casual but his gaze pinned me. He rubbed his jaw.

A corner of my mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Just thinking.”

He shifted in his camp chair, getting comfortable and taking another sip of wine, giving me the option to tell him more or not. I felt a bizarre pull to divulge everything to him.

“My mom, she…” I narrowed my eyes up at the blanket of stars. “She went for things, you know? She had such a fun spirit, so passionate about things, and she took control over her life. She loved books so she opened a store to sell them. She always had music on in the house and she loved going on adventures around the island.”

A memory appeared in my head and a huge grin grew on my face. “I remember when the Spice Girls came to Vancouver. This was back when you either bought tickets in person or on the phone.” I leaned forward to Wyatt. “She was on hold on the phone for hours.”

“Did she get tickets?”

I shook my head, still smiling. “No, but that’s okay. I still have that memory of her.” I swallowed, and my throat was thick. “I want to do that for someone, one day. I want to shower someone in love and make them feel special. Like they’re everything to me.” Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them away, turning so Wyatt wouldn’t see. My chest twisted hard with nostalgia.

“I remember her.”

My gaze snapped to his and my eyebrows lifted. “You do?”

He took another sip of wine before answering. “Mhm. She came to my kindergarten class. She read a book about fish.”

My face lit up. “She loved volunteering for story time.”

“She was really good at reading the story. She did all the voices.”

“That sounds just like her.”

We were quiet a moment. My heart was about to crack open.

Wyatt studied my expression. “You look sad, bookworm.”

I had the urge to smile and tell him it was nothing, but this was also Wyatt, and we didn’t do that. I could be honest with him. I could tell him.

“I think my mom would look at me right now and be disappointed.”

“Sitting in the middle of a forest with one of the Rhodes boys?”

I laughed. “No.” I waved my hand at myself. “I’m living in her shadow.”

“So that’s what the whole birthday list thing is all about?”

I pressed my mouth into a line and nodded at him.

He made a noise in his throat, a mix between acknowledgement and disapproval.

I frowned.

“Now, bookworm, that bums me out.” He rubbed his jaw, and when his eyes met mine, a spark hit me in the chest. “Because I think you’re amazing. You’re thoughtful, funny, and brave, and you’re a good boss.”

“I’m not the boss.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You are. You manage the store and it’s clear Liya enjoys working for you. You run that place, however it’s broken down on paper between you and your dad.”

I didn’t say anything. He was right, I did run the business.

“You’re living life for yourself. You’re starting to fail. Your mom wouldn’t want you to be her clone. She’d want you to do whatever made you happy, whether that’s working in the bookstore or falling face first off your board or eating a huge bowl of pasta, sitting by yourself in a restaurant, looking fucking beautiful.”

My breath caught in my throat. He watched me so intently, so clearly, like I was all he could see. My heart squeezed.

“I think you’re amazing,” he repeated, softer this time. “And I don’t think your mom would be disappointed in you. She’d be proud.”

I swallowed. My heart thumped hard in my chest. Wyatt’s words etched something sweet into my heart. There was that sting of pain from the nostalgia, of memories that had passed, experiences I’d never have again. I’d never talk to her again. I’d never hug her and feel the warmth of her chest against my face. I’d never smell her light, floral perfume.

This was all I had, talking about her with Wyatt.

I had wondered once if she would have liked Wyatt. Sitting there in the forest across from him, the fire crackling in front of us, him watching me with that warm gaze, I knew she would. I knew they’d get along, and that she’d give me a he’s cute! look the second he turned around.

“What are you smiling at?” A teasing grin grew on his face.

I shook my head, letting myself smile wider. “Nothing. Talking about her with you is nice.”

We watched each other for a moment. The light of the fire flickered over his face, lighting his eyes up. My gaze took him in as I memorized the moment.

“I’m going to miss you.” I tried to smile at him but my mouth twisted. I cleared my throat. “When you leave, I mean.”