Page 77 of Married in Michigan

She shakes her head. Her eyes laser into mine, and I can’t look away. Don’t dare. “Won’t go till you’re not alone.”

“If you go, I’m alone.”

She shakes her head. “Gotta let me go, baby. I’mtired.” She squeezes again, three times, hard. “But you—you have lived your whole adult life for me. No more, baby.”

“Momma—”

She cuts in. “He a good man?”

I consider. “Yes, I think he is. Completely out of touch with reality when it comes to money, but he’s a good person despite that.”

“He respect you?”

“He’s respected the fact that I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“Do you like him?”

I nod.

Mom’s eyes pierce deeper. “He like you?”

I hesitate. I nod again. “I think so,” I whisper.

She squeezes my hand. “Thentry.”

“I’m scared to,” I admit. “Terrified.”

Mom’s smile makes me nervous. “Good.”

I frown. “Good? Why good?”

“If you’re scared, it means you got something real going on. Scarier it is, the bigger it is.” She pauses for a long time. “Give the man a chance, Mack.”

I shake my head, but it’s doubt rather than denial. “What if he breaks my heart, and you’re gone? What will I do?”

She lifts her chin high, proud. “I taught you strength, Makayla Poe. You ain’t a weak-ass bitch. You’re strong.Strong.It’ll hurt. That’s okay. You’re strong.”

I can’t help crying, and she doesn’t stop me this time. She’s crying too. “You taught me.”

“Get your big brown ass out of here, Mack.”

I laugh, hug her. “Okay, okay. You need to sleep.” I hug her again, hold on tight. “Mom, you have to promise you won’t go anywhere without—”

She shoves me away, holds me at arm's length. “I’ll go when I’m ready.”

“I’ll be there with you, Mom. Promise me.”

“Mack, I don’t want you to watch—”

“Promiseme, Mom.” I choke. “Fuckingpromise, goddamn you.”

“I promise.” Her eyes are steady but wet. “I promise.”

“You and me, Mom. No matter what.”

She smiles, and pulls me in for a hug, and then I help her get settled into her pillows,Vanderpump Rulesreruns playing. I watch her fade to sleep, and my heart aches.

I’ve faced my mom’s illness for years. But have I prepared myself for her death?