She tries not to laugh.
“I’m not kidding,” I say. “What am I supposed to do? Pretend my house wasn’t a home at one point? I’ll probably not even go back there. You can just have it and give it to someone. But not Anjelica.” I jab my fork in the gravy. “And that’s just because I’m spiteful.”
She can’t take it anymore. She laughs.
“Are you done?” she asks.
“With what?”
“Being a smart-ass.”
I shake my head. “Probably not.”
She lifts off the counter and watches me. “Then keep your mouth shut and listen to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She seems pleased with my cooperation.
“You’ve been in love with that girl since she broke into your house,” she says. She points a finger at me when I begin to interrupt. “I know you have because I’m your mother. I made you. I know every nuance and every cue there is to know about my children. So don’t argue with me.”
I nod. I’m afraid to even agree with her when she gets like this.
“You were not raised to just give up on things. We might’ve coddled you a little more than the others—”
“What? That’s so not true.”
She points at me again. “That is true. And despite that, you’ve always been so strong and so capable.”
That’s fair.
Keep going.
“I’ve seen you fight for things that don’t matter a fraction as much as this,” she says. “Like the tree in front of the high school. Do you remember that?”
“That totally mattered. That was the only shade in the courtyard. And the tree wasn’t dead.”
She grins. “And the time you fought Holt over trying to send his secretary to Wade’s office?”
“I didn’t want her feelings hurt.”
“I could go on and on, Boone.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “So why aren’t you fighting for this?”
I could name a few reasons, but none of them are totally true. They’re mostly cop-outs.
I knew it last night in a moment of clarity.
My retreat from the situation wasn’t because my feelings were hurt or that she didn’t trust me. It wasn’t even that she was taking Rosie and moving out.
It was that for the first time in my life, I wanted something that mattered. I needed it. I needed them.
It wasn’t losing a contract or missing a concert or having a girl I was seeing move away. None of that matters. It was replaceable. I could find a substitution.
There is no substitution for Jaxi and Rosie.
They’re it.
They are my people, the souls who make mine feel complete. With them, things make sense. They fall into line. The world is balanced.
So, what if I couldn’t have them? What if Jaxi said no? What if it didn’t work out and there was nothing I could do?
I kept thinking about Libby and Ted. How they seemed happy, and then it was all over. If I gave that much of myself to Jaxi and she walked away, I’d die. I couldn’t go on.
“Boone?” Mom asks softly.
“I’m scared too. What if she doesn’t want me?”
That line is usually followed up by a laugh or a punchline, but not this time. This time, I mean it.
It’s a sobering thought.
“What if I try my best and it doesn’t work? What if … what if she needs more than I can give her?”
Mom smiles softly. “She needs someone to love her and that little girl unconditionally. Are you implying that you can’t do that?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“That’s all she really needs, honey. And no one can love them like you do.” She looks around the room, searching for words. “You took her in. You gave them a home. You didn’t send them to a hotel or take off to Vegas to let her figure it out. You knew, intuitively, that she was your person and this little girl was your family. You did what none of your brothers would’ve done.”
She lets that sink in before smiling at me again.
“I know we haven’t spent much time together yet, but in the times we have, I’ve watched her with you. I’ve watched her look at you when no one is looking. She looks at you like I’ve always hoped a woman would look at the son of mine she’s chosen. With adoration. With a little bit of awe, that I know they’ll grow out of.” She winks at me. “She chose you, Boone. She’s in love with you. You just have to have faith, sweetheart. And believe in yourself like I believe in you. Like she believes in you.”
My chest warms.
“Trust me, Boone. If she didn’t believe in you, she never would’ve let that little girl near you.”
Shit.
“What do I do then?” I ask.
A twinkle sparkles in Mom’s eye. There’s something exciting, something hopeful about it.
I get off the stool. The breakfast is forgotten.
“First things first. How committed are you to her?” Mom asks.
“How committed am I or how committed do I want to be?”