Page 140 of The Love Playbook

“Hewasbeing a turd at dinner, wasn’t he?”

“He was,” she confirms. “So, you and I, we’re good.” She slaps her hands on her thighs like everything’s settled. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s in that envelope you’re clutching, or are you going to keep me in suspense?” she asks, eyeing it.

Feeling sheepish, I hand it over. “It’s for you. Consider it an apology gift.”

Barb’s eyes glitter with curiosity as she tears it open and gingerly pulls out the stock card embellished with pressed rose petals, then gasps. “This is gorgeous.” She lifts the invitation under the light, examining it further. “You did this?”

I nod. “I wanted to show my support, so I made this. This is just an example. Of course, you can use any colors, paper, or stationery you want, but I did all the calligraphy by hand.”

“This is absolutely divine.” I sink further into my chair, relieved she likes it and glowing under her praise. “But are you sure this won’t be too much trouble?”

“I enjoy it.” I shrug. “So, it’s really no bother. Just give me the blank invitations and envelopes you want me to use, and I can have them for you in a couple of weeks. Closer to the wedding, I can even do the place cards for the tables and everything.”

“That would be lovely, Charlotte. Truly. I’d be so honored for you to do them,” she says, and then she reaches out and pulls me into a hug, pressing me into her chest in a move so motherly, it brings tears to my eyes.

By the time she pulls back, we’re both sniffling, and it’s that exact moment, Chris saunters into the kitchen, his smile wide. “Hey, ladies. Everything good?”

“Perfect.” Barb swats at his hand as he tries to steal a piece of bacon.

“I’m hungry,” he whines.

“You’re always hungry,” Barb and I say at the same time, then lock eyes and smile.

Chris crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around me. “How’d your game with Tyler go?” I ask.

Chris scoffs. “Do you even have to ask? I crushed the little booger in record time and gave him a good dose of humility.”

“I’m so proud.”

“I knew you would be.”

His gaze jumps between me and his mother as she hums a pleasant tune while starting on the French toast. Grinning, he dips his head and whispers, “I take it things went well?”

I nod.

“Told you so,” he says, planting a kiss on my head.

“Do you always have to be right?” I ask, sinking further into his arms.

“I was right about you.”

Biting my lip, I glance up at him, feeling the warmth of his gaze like the sun as I rise onto my toes. “Thank god for that,” I say, and then I kiss him.

Epilogue

CHARLOTTE

My leg shakes as I sit in the lobby of New Hope Rehabilitation Center, my hands folded in my lap, waiting. The place smells of fresh flowers and the faint hint of coffee. The last time I was here a couple of months ago, it was to wish my mother good luck at the start of her journey, and though I’ve spoken with her since, I’m anxious to see her in person because this visit is different. I’m not here out of obligation or duty or concern. Today, I’m here because I’m ready to see something I’ve longed for. Real progress.

Beside me, Chris sits with his arm stretched over the back of my chair, his presence a balm to my frayed nerves.

Reaching out, he grabs my hand and squeezes, his touch light, yet grounding. “You okay?”

I exhale, turning to meet his eyes. “Yeah. I’m nervous, but . . . I think it’ll be good. She’s been doing so well. I just want to see it for myself.” A part of me still clings to the old fear—the fear that my mother’s recovery might still be fragile, that something might go wrong, or that the woman I know so well is still lost in a haze of depression. But today, my heart is light, and for once in my life, the anticipation of what’s to come is stronger than the old anxiety.

The door opens, and in walks my mother, her strides confident and steady. She looks more vibrant than I’ve ever seen her. Her dark hair shines under the fluorescent lights. There’s a newness in the way she moves, a bounce to her step that wasn’t present before, and as she approaches me, her smile is wide and genuine, and all my nerves disappear.

I rise to my feet, itching to hug her when my mother envelops me in her arms. “Charlotte,” she says, her voice rich with warmth. “I’ve missed you.”