With Riley occupied by Tyler, Ian headed onto the dance floor, where his mother and a silver-haired gentleman were dancing and had been for quite some time.
“Mind if I cut in?” Ian asked.
“Michael, this is my son, Ian. Ian, this is Michael Brooks. His insurance company is a big donor for tonight’s auction.”
Ian nodded.
The other man extended his hand, and Ian took it. “I’ve been hearing about you all evening. Your mother is your biggest fan. And I’m impressed with all you’ve done for the team during your tenure.”
“Thank you.” Ian hoped the other man wasn’t trying to impress him for his mother’s sake. He hated suck-ups.
“Unfortunately, I’m a Breakers fan,” Michael said with humor and honesty.
“That’s a damn shame.” So much for his concerns, Ian thought, admiring the man’s truthfulness even if his taste in football teams sucked. “And my mother’s dancing with you anyway? I’m surprised.”
“I’ve won her over with my charm,” Michael said. “She’s a lovely lady. Well worth the effort.”
“I agree.”
“I’ll let you have some time together. I’ll wait for you at the bar, Emma.”
His mother smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Nice to meet you, Ian.” Michael tipped his head and walked away.
His mother followed the other man with her gaze.
“Have you met him before tonight?” Ian asked her.
“We’re both on the Juvenile Diabetes Board that planned tonight’s event,” she said.
Ian pulled her into his arms, and they swayed in time to the slow music. “I’ll look into him,” he told her.
“You will not. I’m a big girl and—”
“What the hell are they doing here?” Ian asked, interrupting her as he caught sight of his father and Alex walking into the ballroom. Savannah was beside them.
“Who?” His mother glanced toward the entrance.
“My father, his wife, and Alex,” Ian said, any peace he’d been feeling this evening evaporating at the sight of them.
Ian had stopped dancing, but his mother pulled him back into their earlier positions. “Don’t let them rattle you or interrupt your evening,” she said firmly.
He acquiesced to her demands and forced himself to both relax and continue their dance. “I don’t understand how you do it.”
“How I do what, exactly?” his mother asked.
“Get past what Dad did? Go forward as if nothing happened?”
He met his mother’s gaze but saw no stress there, only understanding.
“Your father and I weren’t a love match, Ian. You know that already.”
“Is that an excuse?” he asked, hearing his bitter tone but unable to stop it.
“No, but it is a fact. The truth is, I was in love before I ever met your father. His name was Jonathan Daniels. He mowed our lawn,” she said, blushing.
Ian immediately realized where this conversation was going. “Mom—”