When You're Ready (Ready #1)(38)
“Thanks Mom. I really appreciate this. Leah and I are looking forward to a night out,” I confessed.
“It’s no problem. You know I don’t mind taking her. For whatever reason,” she lingered, making clear she knew more than she was letting on.
“You know, don’t you?” I asked bluntly.
“Yes, Leah mentioned you were seeing someone.”
Annoyed at my mother and BFF for talking behind my back, I asked, “I swear, did you adopt Leah somewhere down the road, and I just didn’t know about it?”
“You know she’s always been like a daughter to us. But you are my actual daughter. You could have told me. Are you ashamed?”
“What? No! I’m not ashamed. I just thought...I was afraid you would be angry, or...feel betrayed,” I admitted.
I made the difficult decision to move on, but had my parents? It was still something I struggled over, and something I battled with constantly. But I didn’t give them the choice when I made my decision, and I didn’t know how they would react.
“Oh sweetheart, no. You loved Ethan more in the few years you had together than most people do in a lifetime. You gave that man everything and he gave you everything in return. But don’t think you are done because of it. Ethan died, yes, but you didn’t. When you married him, he became our son and I loved him more than I can say. His death hurt us all, but that doesn’t mean you should carry that sorrow forever. I want nothing more than to see you happy again,” she assured me.
My Mom always seems to know the right words to say and the exact moment to say them.
I nodded, letting the tears fall freely down my cheek. And just like she used to do when I bruised a knee or came home from school with another broken heart, my mom pulled me into her arms and held me. Her warm, familiar embrace gave me the comfort only a mother could.
“Does this man make you happy, Clare?” she asked softly.
“Yes Mama,” I answered, pulling back to look into her beautiful green eyes that mirrored my own.
“Do you love him?”
“I think so. I don’t know yet,” I answered honestly.
“Take your time, sweetie. Know your heart before you give it away.”
Later, as I was readying myself for a night out with Leah, my thoughts drifted to the conversation I had with my mom, and I found myself looking over at my nightstand, the keeper of my husband’s last words. I hadn’t forgotten the letter. I still pulled it out late at night when I needed to feel him close to me. When the memory of him felt too far away and I couldn’t quite remember the exact sound of his laughter or the way he looked in the morning when he’d just woken up, I’d touch those frayed edges and remember.
The familiar sound of the drawer sliding open calmed me as I once again pulled out the worn envelope and held it in my hands. I ran my hands over the cryptic message written on the outside, remembering the years I had with him and how suddenly it all had changed. We were supposed to have forever. I would have gladly spent every day of my life with him, never regretting a single second. But he was gone and all that remained was me and Maddie....and an unopened letter. Taking one last look, I placed the letter back in the drawer, hoping one day I’d be ready for whatever lay sealed in that envelope. But it was not today.
“So, let me get this straight? It’s been three weeks since your super-hot and heavy date?” Leah practically shouted in my ear, trying to be heard over the crowds of people in the popular downtown bar we had chosen for the evening. Downtown was a madhouse on the weekends and I usually tried to avoid it, but Leah loved the crowds and the excitement. She said sitting back watching people make fools of themselves all night was the best free entertainment in the entire city. I personally would rather be home in my fuzzy slippers reading. But whatever. At least I looked hot.
I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. White Russian, yum.
“And you still haven’t had sex?” she asked, swirling her cranberry and vodka around with a straw.
I shook my head in confirmation.
“Wow, that guy must have balls of steel!” she laughed.
“Oh my God, you’re horrible. He said on our first date I wasn’t a casual fling for him and he wanted this to work. I’m letting him work through that, however long it may take.”
And good God, I was starting to think I might spontaneously combust if he waited any longer. For a guy known as a walking man whore, he had the patience of a saint when it came to me. Or so it seemed. For the last three weeks, he’d been the perfect gentleman. I would have thought he was losing interest if I hadn’t caught the heat in his eyes when he thought I wasn’t looking.
We had barely spent a minute alone in the last three weeks and I think it was part of his master plan. Having Maddie around meant he couldn’t jump me, so he kept her around like a sobriety sponsor. When Maddie wasn’t around we went someplace public. It was exasperating. The other day he came over to give Maddie a guitar lesson. It was the first time I’d heard him play. He was amazing, and also failed to mention he could sing. After fifteen minutes I was barely able to sit still, I was so turned on by his long, talented fingers strumming that guitar. I abruptly asked Maddie to take a few minutes and go play in her room and then I pounced, straddling him on the couch and kissing him with fierce passion. I thought I finally was making headway when his hands went under my shirt and cupped my br**sts, but then he shot off the couch, panting, muttering something about a plan.