Page 52 of I Choose You (Wilder #2)

Claire

Reid stood in front of the doorway, his hand on the door like he was debating about slamming it in her face, but he didn’t.

I straightened my pajamas and tried to smooth the tangle of bed-head hair.

When I was at my parents’ house, I wouldn’t leave my bedroom until I was showered, changed, meditated, and ready to start my day.

This morning, I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet.

My gaze darted between my mother and Reid.

“Mom. What are you doing here?” I asked when I finally found my voice.

“You’re not going to invite me in?”

“Of course, yes. Come in. Come in. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

Reid shifted out of the doorway, his eyes locked on my mother. I could tell he was wary, like he wouldn’t hesitate to throw her out of his house if she said anything out of line.

Her gaze roamed Reid’s house—our house.

I folded the blanket that I had wrapped myself in and laid it neatly on the back of the couch .

“Can I get you a coffee, Mom?”

“Thank you. That would be lovely.”

Why did this have to be so hard? So awkward. She was my mother. I was her only child. She spoke so civilly and sterile, like we were strangers.

Reid grabbed his phone off the counter and texted someone while I pulled two coffee mugs from the cupboard and poured us both a cup, adding a bit of cream and sugar to each.

“You okay?” Reid whispered. He stood behind me, running his fingers through my hair and massaging my scalp.

I tilted my head back, giving him better access. I loved when he played with my hair, his fingers kneading their way through my mess of tangles.

“Yeah,” I sighed. My eyes darted to the living room, where my mother sat stiffly on the couch. “I think. I didn’t even know she knew where you lived,” I confessed.

“Where we live,” he corrected. “I’m sure it didn’t take much digging to find the address. It’s the business address too.”

“True.” I turned to face him. “You don’t have to stay if you need to get to work.”

He held my face in my hands, holding my gaze. “I’m not going anywhere while the wicked witch is in my house with my love. I already texted Richie to get started without me. “

A deep breath expelled from my lungs in relief. “Thank you.”

We walked back to the living room, and I handed my mother her coffee, sitting next to her on the couch, but Reid stayed standing, on his guard.

“You have a beautiful home, Reid.”

His brow arched. She sounded… sincere.

“Thank you, Melanie. ”

“Mom, it’s not that I’m not happy to see you, but it’s early. Did you leave at 3:00 a.m. to get here?”

“3:30 a.m. Your father… wasn’t home. And I wanted to see this town that you were calling home now.”

I hadn’t noticed before—I was too concerned with why she was here and what she was going to say about my new life—but she looked sad.

The bags under her eyes were dark and puffy, her mouth was downturned, and she had a heaviness to her, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

My eyes widened in understanding. My father had spent the night somewhere else. And it wasn’t because he was working late at the office. I reached out and gripped my mother’s hand, offering a small squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” I meant it. I knew what it felt like to be betrayed and humiliated. I had a feeling this wasn’t something new for her, which made me even sadder.

“It’s fine, dear. Nothing to worry about.” She pulled her hand out from mine and straightened her back.

“Are you here for the day? Can I take you out for breakfast?”

She said that she wanted to see where I was living, but I was still confused as to why she was here. Was that really all it was? Curiosity?

She smiled for the first time since she’d arrived. “I would like that.”

“Okay, good. Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Reid followed me into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

“Do you want me go with you?”

“Reid, she’s my mother. She’s not exactly a threat. ”

“She is if she’s going to try to convince you to go back to Connecticut,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hey.” I looped my arms around his neck. “I choose you. There is nothing for me in Connecticut because you’re not in Connecticut.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

I gave him a quick kiss before letting him go. I discarded my pajamas, preparing for the shower.

“Do you think your mother will notice if we both come out with wet hair?” His eyes sparkled as his gaze devoured me from head to toe.

I laughed and threw the only thing in my hands at him… my underwear.

He caught them and tucked them into his back pocket.

“Is that a yes?” he smirked.

“No. We are not having shower sex with my mother in the other room waiting. Go to work.” I shooed him away. “But do not take my dirty underwear with you,” I warned.

“Too late.” He winked as he turned to leave.

Twenty-five minutes later, I was ready to go.

Reid and my mother were sitting in silence when I made my way into the living room.

“All set. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

“Will you be joining us, Reid?” my mother asked as he walked us to my car.

His scanned my face, a silent question to see if I had changed my mind.

“No. Unfortunately, I have to get to work,” he answered.

His lips brushed across mine lightly as he opened the driver’s-side door for me.

“Love you,” I whispered .

“Love you too. Call me if you need anything.” He didn’t lower his voice. His words were directed at me but held a warning for my mother. I was his, and he was mine. If I needed him, he would be there in an instant.

I drove us over to the Downtown Diner. The smell of pancakes, syrup, coffee, and home fries melded into an enticing aroma. My stomach growled with anticipation. Mrs. Adams, Charlie Wilder’s elderly neighbor, was sitting at a booth with her grandson. I smiled and waved as we passed.

Sheila came out from the kitchen carrying three plates of food.

“I’ll be right there, hon. Coffee?”

“No rush, Sheila. And yes, please. Mom?”

“Make that two,” she replied, adding a beat later, “please.”

I settled into the last open booth, my mother sitting across from me. When was the last time we had gone out to breakfast or voluntarily spent time together? Well, there was the charity dinner about a month ago. It wasn’t specifically mother/daughter quality time, but it was something.

My mother looked comically out of place sitting on the vinyl seat in a small-town diner.

She looked around, taking in the antique decor and outdated linoleum floors.

She probably thought a place like this was dingy and classless.

But all I could see were the people enjoying each other’s company, talking to their neighbors and friends, eating good food that filled their bellies.

Sheila appeared with two cups of coffee and menus before giving us a minute to decide.

“What’s good here?” my mother asked. I half expected her to sound appalled, but she didn’t.

She held the laminated bi-fold menu without a look of condescension or disgust. She was just asking my opinion as someone who was familiar with the diner.

She was here putting in the effort to spend time with me.

Maybe I needed to do a little better too.

Stop jumping to the conclusion that she meant something snide when she was being sincere.

“Pancakes. Sheila makes the best pancakes. The omelets are great too, though.”

She nodded and folded her menu at the same time someone came up to our booth.

“Hi, Claire,” David Pratchett said with a smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Pratchett,” I replied, making introductions for my mother.

“Your daughter did an amazing job at the Delano Library. I still can’t believe my eyes when I see it brought back to its former glory,” Mr. Pratchett gushed.

“Thank you. That was all Reid. He and his crew worked so hard to make sure everything was perfect.”

“Well, you make a great team if you ask me.” He winked.

“Thanks. And, um, now that I’m back in town permanently, if you have any positions open at the historical society, maybe you could keep me in mind?” I asked hopefully.

Mr. Pratchett shook his head, his lips pulled into a tight line.

“Well, I can keep you in mind, but I don’t have anything available.

Not paying jobs anyway. But I heard that Barbara Riscuto was retiring in June, so the Delano Library is going to need a new historian.

Would something like that interest you?”

My eyes widened as my jaw hit the floor. The historian for the Delano Library? I would be working in that building every day? That would be a dream job. I held my hands tightly in my lap, trying to contain my excitement, even though my head was nodding like a bobblehead.

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Yes, I would definitely be interested in that.”

“Well, alright then. I’ll put in a good word for you. You’ll probably be hearing from someone within the next day or two.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pratchett. That would be amazing.”

His smile was almost shy when he responded. “You deserve it, Claire. You’re extremely talented. I think you’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”

Sheila walked up to take our orders, and Mr. Pratchett excused himself. “I’ll let you ladies enjoy your breakfast. It was nice to meet you.”

“It was lovely to meet you too,” my mother said.

Sheila took our orders—two plates of pancakes—and delivered them a few minutes later.

“I’m so glad you’re back in town, hon. I can imagine Reid is as well. That boy was pure misery while you were away.”

“Thanks, Sheila. I’m glad to be back. Oh, Mom, this is Sheila Rawlins. She and Reid’s dad Charlie are together. Sheila, this is my mother, Melanie.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” my mother said primly.

“Same here. Your daughter is truly a special lady. We all adore her around here,” Sheila said. “And speaking of, tell me, is this a permanent thing?”

“It is. I’m not going anywhere.”