55. Weston

I haven’t brought a woman home to meet Mom since Eva, the woman who made me into the cold-hearted asshole that I am. I wasn’t always so skeptical, so rigid with the rules. Not that I was Romeo, ready to drink the poisoned potion, but I wasn’t so… the way I am now.

Back then, I was just a guy who was into the wrong girl. Mom saw it. Molly saw it. I was too dumb to see it.

And it almost cost me everything.

That isn’t happening again. But those old mistakes are exactly what I’m thinking about when I’m rethinking having Renee over for dinner at my mom’s place. Of course, walking up the drive to the porch is a little too late for rethinking. Mom’s already reading too far into it. It’s what she does best.

She wants grandchildren in a major way. Molly has sworn off men—and who can blame her after what happened with Jackass?—so Mother Caroline has pinned her hopes on me.

And deep in my chest, in this weird little place I try to ignore as often as possible, I sense this niggling feeling that maybe grandchildren wouldn’t be so bad. If they looked like Renee, if they laughed like her… maybe that’s something I could get used to.

I’ve got so many thoughts racing through my head that it’s a miracle I can navigate the steps without tumbling ass-over-teakettle back down. Renee, on the other hand, is cheery as can be. She’s got a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine tucked under her arm. The sundress she’s wearing is a soft blush pink. It’s taking all my self-control to let her keep wearing it instead of ripping it off of her right this damn second.

It helps that she hinted she might have “forgotten” to put on panties. She’s been doing that a lot lately, the forgetful little thing. My plan seems to be working.

I usher Renee in the front door, then walk in behind her. “Mom! We’re here.” I hear the shuffling and clanking of kitchen stuff from within. “Watch,” I tell Renee. “Twenty bucks says she’s going to come out grinning ear-to-ear, drying her hands on a dishtowel, wearing an apron over her brown dress.”

Just then, Mama Scott rounds the corner, grinning ear-to-ear, drying her hands on a dishtowel, and wearing an apron over her… jeans.

“Dammit,” I mutter.

Renee pats me on the back. “So close. Better luck next time. Put that twenty on my tab.”

“Look at you two!” My mom beams. “A ray of sunshine and the prince of darkness himself.”

My mom holds down a full-time job and still manages to transform into Martha Stewart every night at five. She cooks and bakes, whips up mouthwatering dishes and desserts. I always felt bad that she never got remarried after Dad died. Some man out there missed out big time.

Mom strides forward and hugs me, then smiles at my date. “You must be Renee. You can call me Caroline.” She shakes Renee’s free hand, then accepts the bottle of wine and flowers with a delighted smile. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” She turns and calls out over her shoulder, “Molly, get in here and say hi to your brother and his…” I widen my eyes because I can’t believe she’s going to say the g-word. Two steps in the door and she’s already—“His Renee.”

Not the smoothest of saves, but I appreciate her trying.

She steps between me and Renee and slides her arm around Renee’s shoulders to shepherd her into the kitchen. “You have to tell me how you all met. My ignoramus of a son hasn’t told us anything juicy.”

Renee looks back at me and giggles. I sigh and lope along behind them.

I hope she doesn’t tell my mom that I thought she was a stalker. I don’t need Mom bringing up anything from before and I also don’t think we need mention of Renee’s cherry-printed panties—delectable as they are—at the dinner table.

“Your house is lovely,” Renee remarks, looking around at the gingham curtains and matching rugs.

If my mom’s smile gets any wider, I’m gonna start fearing her face will crack in two. “Weston bought me a remodel and I couldn’t be happier. We turned the den into more kitchen area, made a sewing room out of a pantry, and bought me a TV so big he had to build a reinforced wall just to hold it up without the roof caving in.”

Renee looks at me and I shrug. “It was purely selfish. I wanted her to be able to watch my games.”

“You build walls?” Renee looks surprised. “I would’ve never guessed.”

“Wanna see my tool?” I wag my eyebrows at Renee and Mom slaps at me with her towel, but I twist out of the way so that she misses.

“You behave yourself, mister,” she warns.

It’s good to be home. I drape an arm around Mom and pull her in for a hug. “So what’ve you cooked for us tonight, chef?” I tease her.

“The only thing you’ve never turned your nose up at: lasagna.”

I grin. “Perfecto.” Something on the mantelpiece beneath the TV catches my eye: an old, framed photograph of me, Molly, Mom, and Dad when we were young. An old Polaroid camera sits next to it.

“Renee loves photography, Mom.” I glance at Renee, who’s blushing red as a stop sign, and explain, “Mom used to dabble. She’s got a really good eye.”

Mom shakes her head. “Oh, you stop.” But I see her gaze soften as she spies the picture over my shoulder.

She misses Dad. I know that. I do, too. It doesn’t feel fair that we lost him so early.

Molly comes trooping downstairs just then and breaks up the unexpected somber moment. She kisses me on the cheek and then lightly slaps the spot she just kissed, like she always does. It’s equal parts annoying and endearing.

Mom scoops us both up for a hug with each of her arms. She’s literally vibrating with joy at having her kids under one roof again, even if it’s only for dinner. Renee being here, too, is just the cherry on top.

We do the introductions, then Mom assigns Renee and me to finish setting the table while she takes the lasagna out of the oven. I catch Renee staring at me as I lay out silverware by each of the place settings.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. It’s just… It’s nice. You love them. They love you. It’s nice to see.”

“They’re my world,” I say simply.

Her gaze softens and she smiles and pats the space over her heart. I don’t know what it means or what it’s called, this feeling I get having all of these people I love here with me, but I smile back.

Somehow, it all feels right.