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“I owe you an apology.”

The wooden spoon stilled in Taylor’s hand. “What did you say, Ma?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Your daddy and I… we put a lot on you, Taylor. Expected you to be perfect when none of us are. Expected you to be something other than yourself.” Her mother’s voice cracked. “I was so worried about what the church would say, what my friends would say, that I forgot to ask what you needed.”

Tears pricked Taylor’s eyes. “I needed you to believe me. To understand how hard I tried. But a hug would’ve been just enough.”

“I know that now.” A soft sniffle came through the line. “Joani’s daughter is going through something similar, and watching her support her and her grandbabies made me take a hard look at myself. At how I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me,” Taylor said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I did. But I want to do better.”

Another pause.

“Your daddy’s not quite there yet, but he’ll come around. He’s just stubborn, you know that.”

Taylor laughed, wet and shaky. “Wonder where I get it from.”

Her mother chuckled, and for the first time in a long time, Taylor felt like she was talking to the woman who raised her, not the first lady of the church.

“Listen,” her mother said gently. “When you’re ready, I’d like us to have dinner or lunch. Just us girls. You can tell me everything, and this time, I promise I’ll listen. I been hearing something but I wanna give you that chance before I accuse you.”

Taylor exhaled, letting the moment settle over her. They couldn’t take back what they’d done and said or even how they’d made her feel. But this was a perfect start to reconciliation and healing.

“I’d like that. I have so much to tell you,” she admitted, surprising herself with how much she meant it. And she did. She would wait and tell her mom about Brooks in person. She was already fishing for information and thinking she knew something .

But Taylor couldn’t wait to brag on how he’d been her anchor, in the storm. Some things deserved to be said in person—and this? She was ready to say it with her whole chest.

“I look forward to it. I miss you, Taylor.”

“I miss you too momma. We’ll do lunch. Just us.”

A laugh slipped through the phone. “I feel special. Now go on, finish cooking. And Taylor? Just ‘cause you got divorced don’t mean Jesus divorced you.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll be there Sunday.”

“Ok bye. Love you.”

“Love you. Bye.”

After they hung up, she took a deep breath, wiped at her face, and refocused.

The timer beeped, pulling her back to the meal in front of her. She whipped the potatoes with butter and roasted garlic until they were creamy and decadent. The asparagus went into the oven, drizzled with olive oil and sea salt, and other seasonings. Finally, she seared the lamb chops, the scent of rosemary and garlic filling the air.

With everything nearly ready, she dimmed the lights and set the table with her good dishes. Candles flickered against the dark wood, a fresh bouquet adding to the final touch.

Brooks would be here soon. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he walked through the door. The thought of seeing him caused her to bite her lip.

She took a quick shower, the hot water relaxing and causing her to exhale. When she stepped out, she moisturized, letting the vanilla-scented lotion sink into her skin. She decided on one of the outfits from Denver, a burgundy wrap dress. He was going to have his eyes on her all night..

She was adding her final touch of gloss when she heard his voice downstairs.

“Tay?”

She smiled, inhaled deeply, and exhaled to calm the butterflies. This was her night, her grand gesture, her showing him that she wasn’t running. Just pacing herself.

Brooks stepped inside and was immediately hit by the scent of something rich and savory. His stomach growled in approval, but then he heard the low hum of Anita Baker playing through the house, and hisattention shifted entirely.