whispered in his ear and settled there. “But if you’d done that, then you wouldn’t have Daphne.”
His throat sealed, and he swallowed the lump forming. “I don’t think I have Daphne at all.”
His mother’s smooth palm caressed his cheek. “Look at me,” she said.
He forced his eyes open.
“Henry has asked me to marry him twice. I have refused. So don’t hate Henry. He didn’t want to come on this vacation; he said you didn’t like him. But I convinced him it’d be good for all of us, good to get away and find who we are again.”
“Who am I?” he asked, interrupting her. “What if I’m just like you and Dad and I hurt her?”
“What if you don’t? What if you choose to be a better person than your father and I? What then? Are you willing to give up Daphne out of fear?”
“Are you?” he asked. “Are you willing to marry Henry and make it right?”
A standoff, that’s what this was. Face-to-face they stared at each other, waiting ‘til the other broke. And his mom spoke at last.
“You aren’t me, and you aren’t him,” she said. “Your life is your own to choose to live. And I think you know what you want to do way down in here.” She patted his chest. “Give in. Give in and fall in love. It’s okay.”
She rose from the bed and left the room, unspeaking. He gazed at the place she’d been for a good while, then returned to contemplation of the window. Was it really that easy? He should simply let go and see where this takes him? Would the memory of what happened to his parents send him repeating their actions or keep him away from them?
And the answer glared him in the eye. He shook with it, curling his fingernails into his palm.
Maybe the best person to ask wasn’t his mother, Daphne’s father, or even himself. Maybe the best person to ask was Daphne. All he could do was speak the truth, and she’d either like him or hate him for it in the end.
He’d simply have to learn to live with the result.
***
My mom turned at the sound of my weeping, and arms extended, rose from Dad’s side and embraced me. I buried my head in her chest, breathing in the smells of soap and lotion, and the potpourri she kept in her clothes.
“What is it, sweetheart?” she asked. “Is it Carter?”
So okay, my parents weren’t dumb. I think all teens fall into this trap. They think good ‘ole Mom and Dad don’t actually know what’s going on, when all along they do. They’re simply biding their time for the right moment to say so.
I was too heartbroken right then to deny it. So I gave a nod and sobbed harder.
She held me tight, rocking me gently back and forth. “Did he say something?” she asked.
“No,” I choked.
“He was rude to you then?”
I shook my head.
“He forgot something? Or … or what?” She was flustered like she gets when I’m making no sense.
I sagged in her arms and choked out the words. “He … just … left ….”
“There, there,” she patted my back. “He’s a nice boy. I’m sure you’ve misunderstood.”
My dad cleared his throat. “I had a talk with him.”
This brought my mother’s head over her shoulder and mine up from her chest.
“You did?” my mom asked. “About what?”
“Well, he had some questions. I think he has doubts about himself. Reminds me of myself a lot at the beginning.”
I pulled myself free of my mom and moved to the couch. Sitting, I crossed my legs beneath me. “Wh-what did he say?” I rubbed my damp cheeks. My breathing was snotty, so my mom handed me a tissue.
Dad smiled. “He said he likes you a lot.”
“He … he said that?”
Dad nodded. “Yes, said he wants to fall in love with you, but what if he can’t?”
“He … he …” I couldn’t say it. Carter wanted to fall in love with me? Then had he meant all those things he’d said? He hadn’t lied?
“What did you tell him, Howard?” my mom asked.
She would ask that. She was always practical.
“I told him to relax and give
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