Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Finn take input on a menu? Absurd.
He’d accepted a few suggestions on the wedding menu from Tenn and Scarlett, only because it was their wedding. Otherwise, he’d made it very clear to everyone that outside input was not welcome. I wasn’t sure if his intention was to be ornery, but no one cared. Not even me. Everything that came out of Finn’s kitchen was delicious.
My phone chimed with a text. The blood drained from my face when I saw the name on the screen.
Lydia Harris. My mother-in-law.
Hand shaking as I lifted the phone, I tapped the screen. Up popped the blue bubble.
Savannah, I know you’re carrying a lot of guilt, but don’t you think it’s time you stop punishing us? I want to see my grandson. I think it’s best if you join us for the Thanksgiving holiday. If you aren’t willing to give me that much, then send me Nicky. He deserves his grandmother.
I let out a long breath, reaching for my coffee cup with an unsteady hand. I stared into the empty mug, not registering anything. Heart pounding, I struggled to put my thoughts together.
Why did she always do this to me? I was Savannah Miles, for fuck's sake. I could do anything. I laughed in the face of crisis. I could solve any problem. How did one sixty-eight-year-old woman make me shake? Did she really think I’d send her my six-year-old son?
“What is it?” Finn asked, pouring a stream of hot coffee into my mug.
I drank, scalding my tongue, grateful for the burn that shocked me back to myself. Reading the text message one more time, I turned my phone face down on the table before I gave in to temptation and chucked it across the room.
His green eyes hard as they landed on my phone, Finn pressed, “Your mother-in-law again?”
I nodded. Finn studied my face, watching, I thought, for some sign I was going to break down.
I wasn’t.
“I’m not going to cry all over you again. She took me by surprise that time. I knew she’d try again. It was just a matter of time.”
Finn leaned back against the butcher block island and raised his own coffee mug, taking a slow sip. “What does she want?” he asked, eventually.
“She wants Nicky.”
“She wants to visit Nicky? Or she just wants Nicky?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.” I stared into my coffee.
“What did she say?” Finn sounded only vaguely interested, but I wasn’t fooled. If Finn wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t bother to ask.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted Finn in my business. I wasn’t going to hand him a weapon to use against me. But this wasn’t high school. And he wasn’t that boy anymore.
More than anything else, I could use a sounding board. I didn’t want to lay this on my mom. For one thing, she’d unequivocally be on my side. An excellent quality in a mother, but I could use an impartial opinion. Finn and I weren’t friends. We weren’t family. And he wouldn’t hesitate to tell me if I was being an ass.
I read him the text message.
Finn let out a low whistle. “She’s good. Just the right amount of accusation, and bringing what Nicky deserves into it.” He took another sip of coffee, his eyes on me.
I fought the urge to squirm.
“Are you guilty?” he asked.
“No.” I didn’t have to think. I’d given everything I had to save Oliver, and it wasn’t enough. It never would have been enough. Not when he didn’t want to save himself.
Finn only raised an eyebrow.
I didn’t have to explain. Didn’t have to tear open this wound. I didn’t owe anyone that. Especially not Finn.
I found myself saying, “She blames me for Oliver’s death.”
Finn waited, pressure building inside me as the silence dragged on. Finally, it all spilled out.
“She was fine the whole time Oliver and I were dating and when we first got married. A little intense about her firstborn baby boy, but she was okay. Then when Nicky was born, she went a little nuts. Always hovering, telling me what to do, endlessly criticizing everything I did. Formula was better. I absolutely couldn’t send him to daycare. He should sleep on his stomach.”
I lifted my mug and sipped, the coffee washing away some of my bitterness. “She had an opinion on everything. She was furious when I went back to work, but I liked my job, and I’d worked hard for it. She was even more furious when I enrolled him in a preschool between Oliver and my offices instead of letting her watch him. But we didn’t agree on anything—food, nap schedules, potty training. I think that was the beginning of the end between us. When I chose the preschool over her.”
“Where was Oliver in all of this?” Finn asked, an edge to his words.
“At the bottom of a bottle of Vicodin.” I wasn’t sugarcoating it anymore. I’d wasted too much time covering for Oliver.