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“Are you mad that I’ve been seeing him?” he asks, and I put my hand on his back to try to comfort him.
“Oh, Hardin, I would never be upset with you for having a relationship with your father. I’m just surprised, that’s all. You could have told me.” She blinks rapidly to avoid tears. “I have wanted you to let go of that anger for so long. That was a dark time in our lives, but we got through it, and it’s in the past. Your father isn’t the same man he was then, and I’m not the same woman.”
“It still doesn’t make it okay,” he says quietly.
“No, it doesn’t. But sometimes you have to choose to let things go, to move on. I really am happy that you’ve been seeing him. It’s good for you. The reason I sent you here . . . well, one of the reasons, was for you to forgive him.”
“I didn’t forgive him.”
“You should,” she says sincerely. “I have.”
Hardin leans on his elbows on the counter and drops his head while I rub my hand up and down his back. Noticing the gesture, Trish gives me a knowing smile. Even more than before, I admire her so much. She’s so strong and loving despite the lack of emotion from her son. I wish she had someone in her life, the way Ken has Karen.
Hardin must have been thinking the exact same thing, because he drops his head and says, “But he lives in this big-ass house and has expensive cars. He has a new wife . . . and you’re alone.”
“I don’t care about his house or his money,” she assures him. Then she smiles. “And what makes you think I’m alone?”
“What?” He raises his head.
“Don’t sound so surprised! I’m quite the catch, son.”
“You’re seeing someone? Who?”
“Mike.” She blushes and my heart warms.
Hardin’s mouth gapes. “Mike? Your neighbor?”
“Yes, my neighbor. He’s a very nice man, Hardin.” She laughs and looks at me knowingly. “And it’s convenient having him live just next door.”
Hardin waves that off. “For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“A few months, it’s nothing serious . . . yet. Besides, I don’t think I should be asking you for relationship advice,” she teases.
“Mike, though? He’s sort of a . . .”
“Don’t you say a bad word about him. You’re not too old for a spanking,” she scolds with a wry grin.
He raises his arms playfully. “Fine . . . fine . . .”
He’s much more relaxed than he was this morning. The tension between us has disappeared, mostly, and watching him joke with his mother makes me so happy.
Trish announces cheerfully, “Excellent! I’m going to go pick the movie—don’t come in there unless you bring cookies.” She smiles and leaves us alone in the kitchen.
I walk back over to the bowl of ingredients and finish mixing the cookie dough. When I lick a glob of it off my finger, Hardin oh-so-helpfully notes, “I don’t think that’s very sanitary.”
I dip my finger back into the bowl, collecting the sticky dough and walk over to him. “Have some,” I tell him. I hold up my hand and try to transfer the dough to his fingers, but he opens his mouth and wraps his lips around my finger. I gasp at the contact and try to convince myself this is just his method of removing the cookie dough . . . regardless of how he’s looking at me with dark eyes. No matter how he’s flicking his warm tongue over my finger. No matter how many degrees the temperature of the kitchen has seemed to have risen. No matter how my heart is beating out of my chest and my insides are igniting.
“I think that’s enough,” I croak and pull my finger from his mouth.
He gives me a wicked smirk. “Later, then.”
THE PLATE OF COOKIES is devoured within the first ten minutes of the movie. I have to admit I’m proud of my newly acquired baking skills; Trish praises me and Hardin eats over half of the batch, which is praise in and of itself.
“Is it bad that these cookies are my favorite thing about America so far?” Trish laughs as she takes the last bite.
“Yes, very sad,” Hardin teases her, and I giggle.
“You may have to make these every day until I leave, Tessa.”
“Sounds good to me.” I smile and lean into Hardin. One of his arms snakes behind me at my waist, and I fold my legs up so I can move even closer to him.
Trish falls asleep toward the end of the movie, and Hardin turns the volume down a bit so we can finish without waking her. By the end, I’m a sobbing mess and Hardin doesn’t try to hide his humor at my despair. That was one of the saddest movies I’ve seen in my entire life; I have no idea how Trish fell asleep.
“That was terrible, amazing but terribly sad,” I sob.
“Blame my mum. I requested a comedy, yet somehow we ended up with The Green Mile. I warned you.” He moves his arm to my shoulder, pulling me closer and placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “We can turn on Friends when we get to the room to get your mind off of him dy—”
“Hardin! Don’t remind me!” I groan.
But he just chuckles before standing up off of the couch and pulling me by the arm to join him. When we get to the room, Hardin switches on the lamp and then the television.
When he goes over and locks the door, then turns to me with those bright green eyes and evil dimples, my insides quiver.
Chapter thirty-five
HARDIN
I’m going to change,” Tessa tells me and disappears into the closet, tissue still in hand.