“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “That was unfair of me.”
She sucks in a breath and shakes her head before letting it out. “You and I . . .” A wan smile fills out her thin lips. “We are not good at communicating with one another. We never have been. It will take some time to learn how to do it.”
Is she . . . is she saying what I think she’s saying?
“These people you’re living with—these nons—”
I stop this nonsense immediately. “Cameron was married to Molliaria Hellebore; thus, Will is a Métis. No matter what they are or aren’t, I won’t stand for you saying anything bad about them.”
Her smile tightens. “I was not disparaging them. I was merely saying that I’m glad you are somewhere with people who seem to have your best interest at heart.”
Oh. My. Gods. Am I asleep? Is this really happening?
“I will admit I know very little about the situation, but from the small discussion I had with Cameron, his affections toward you were obvious. The same with . . . Will, you said?”
“I love them,” I tell her. “They took me in and loved me and accepted me.” My voice shakes. “Cameron Dane has been more of a father to me than Noel Lilywhite ever has.”
I can’t tell if this hurts her or not, as she merely nods her head in acquiescence.
It hurt to even ask, but I do it anyway. “Where is Dad?”
“He chose not to come today. He is . . .” She sighs again and smoothes imaginary wrinkles on her slacks. “Your father is who he is. That said, he is aware of where I am. He is also aware that, if he does not approve of my actions and choices, that is his choice, not mine.”
My mouth drops open.
“I never had the warmest of relationships with my own mother. It is very probable that I do not have it in me to ever be the mother that you want. But . . .” She leans forward, the ice in her green eyes softening, if even just a teeny fraction. “But I would like the chance to see if I ever could be. I have squandered too many years being selfish rather than being a mother. You’re twenty years old; I can never reclaim that time. I can only ask that, from this moment forth, you give me a chance to try to get to know you, and for you to get to know me. It should never take a mother nearly losing her child to make her realize just how precious that person is to them.”
I pull my hair back and study her. Really study her. She seems . . . sincere.
Rome wasn’t built in a day.
I blink tears that threaten to overwhelm me back. “No promises.”
She lets hers fall—just a few, but it’s enough to crack the ice around my heart. “That’s good enough for me.”
When she leaves a quarter of an hour later, we hug. It’s awkward as all hell and short, but it’s a hug. And then I ask her a question that’s been on my mind since I first found out she was sitting in my living room. I ask her how she knew where I was.
She grips the doorknobs, twisting it open. “Jonah told me when I called him inquiring about you, but only after he let me know what he thought of me as a parent.”
Had she reached in and plucked out my heart, I don’t think I could have been more stunned.
In the next few seconds, she and her surprises are gone in a swish of perfume. I lean back against the door, attempting to piece together what just happened. As confused as I am, as much as my heart aches, I know one thing to be true.
My mother just laid down the first brick in what I can only hope will be our foundation.
The sun is bright and warm this morning as I relax on the wide patio outside of the Dane’s apartment with Nell at my feet, and I have to admit, after months of living where cold, snow, and darkness were the norm, it’s a welcome change. I lean my face back and let the warmth seep over my skin.
I’ve just tried calling Cora for what seems to be the tenth time since coming back to Annar, only to reach her voicemail. My path to reaching out to my friends has been riddled with roadblocks, although I’ve talked to a few of them by phone so far. Lizzie and Graham are currently on a break; she claims that the physical distance between them has begun to take its toll on their relationship. Meg and Alex got a dog, or—as she called it—a starter baby. He seemed annoyed by the whole thing, which I could totally get because Meg apparently dresses the dog up in clothes. But as nice as these conversations have been so far, the distance between all of us—once so close—has grown. And I’m fully aware that’s on me.
“You remind me of a cat we had when I was little, one who liked to lay in front of windows and doors so it could soak up the rays.”