Page 40

Hallie

My attention snags on the house next door, following the roofline that connects it to this one. I take inventory of the redbrick exterior and the new ivy that’s grown along the front wall since I lived there.

The car parked in their driveway is not my family’s car. The pots and planters on the top step are different from the ones I walked by every day growing up.

It’s been a long time since I was last here, and my nerves are rattling.

I’ve spent the entire week thinking about this conversation. Going over all the things I need to say and writing it down in the form of a letter in case she doesn’t want to listen to me.

Rio’s team plane lands back in Chicago tomorrow afternoon, so I took the day off today, knowing I need to get back home before he does. He doesn’t know I’m here, nor does he have any clue that I’ve been planning this. I didn’t want him to try to talk me out of it.

Yes, it’s his mom, but this conversation also doesn’t really have anything to do with him.

I truly have no idea how this is going to go. The last time I saw Mrs. DeLuca, she told me she never wanted to see me again. Yet, here I am, six years later, standing on her doorstep.

Inhaling a deep breath, I steel my spine and knock on the door.

Standing outside, I slip off my coat as I wait. It’s early March in Boston, but it’s a warmer day than I expected.

The door finally opens with a smiling Mia DeLuca revealed behind it, but as soon as her eyes land on me, that grin drops.

I swallow hard. “Hi.”

If there’s one thing I know for certain, she hasn’t lost that intimidating factor one bit. Standing in the doorway, she looks me over from head to toe, but when she makes it to my face, she can’t meet my eye.

I know exactly what she’s thinking. I can see the pain in her eyes.

Exhaling, she drops her shoulder an inch as she opens the door wider. “Well, I can’t exactly leave you out in the cold, now, can I?”

The smallest tick of a smile lifts on my lips before I slip past her into the house where I spent so much of my childhood.

As soon as I’m inside, an overwhelming wave of nostalgia passes over me. It’s the exact same as it’s always been. It’s the same kitchen we used to bake cookies together in. The same dining room our families shared so many dinners together. The same living room where I watched TV after school with Luke and Rio.

The front door closes behind me, pulling me out of the past and reminding me why I’m here.

“Can we talk?” I ask, an edge of desperation in my tone.

Because I am desperate. I’m desperate to fix this for him.

His mom doesn’t answer right away, walking past me to her coffeemaker. She takes her time grabbing a mug and pouring a cup, until finally, she asks, “Why?” with her back to me.

“Because I love your son, and I won’t be the reason you two aren’t talking. And when he moves back to Boston, I’m going to be visiting often until I eventually move back here too. It’d be nice if we could be in the same room. For him.”

Her shoulders deflate, then she grabs a second mug to pour another coffee.

She’s not looking at me still. “You cut your hair.”

“I did.”

“Rio’s not with you?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here.”

Finally, she peeks over her shoulder at me.

“If you’re up for it, I’d like to explain myself. And if you don’t want to hear me out, I wrote it all down.” I slip the letter out of my back pocket and hold it out to show her. “If you still hate me afterward, I’ll have to live with that, but it’s killing him that you two aren’t getting along, and I love him too much to not try to fix this.”

She turns to face me, leaning back on the counter, assessing me. “I don’t hate you, Hallie. But you were practically my daughter, and you didn’t tell me.”

My throat goes thick. “I didn’t, and I have regretted that choice since. It not only lost me him, but it lost me you. I can’t change it, but I’m hoping if I can explain why I didn’t say something at the time, you might understand.”

Her jaw tics as she processes.

“I’m not here to give you an excuse,” I continue. “But I’d really like to see if there’s any way we could move forward.”

“For Rio?”

I nod. “Maybe for us too.”

Finally, she grabs the two mugs of coffee and brings them to her kitchen table, placing each on a coaster.

“Come on.” She takes a seat, gesturing to another empty chair. “Let’s talk.”

I join her, both of us bringing the coffee up to our lips and taking a drink.

“Thank you,” I tell her quietly.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow.”

My eyes flit to hers, shocked at her memory. “It is.”

“Doesn’t Rio want to spend it with you?”

I nod with a soft smile. “I have a flight home in the morning. I’ll get back there before his team lands in Chicago.”

“That’s good.” She takes another drink of her coffee. “I feel like I should’ve added alcohol to this.”

“You’re telling me.”

She chuckles and it’s nice to hear. This isn’t comfortable by any means, but she could’ve closed the front door in my face instead of sitting down and drinking coffee with me.

Mrs. DeLuca stands, going to the fridge before coming back with a bottle of Bailey’s, pouring a healthy amount in mine, then taking her seat and adding some to her own coffee.

“So, what is it you want to tell me?”

I take a long sip of my drink. “I need to tell you what happened two weeks before you found out about everything.”

She nods, and I can practically see her mentally preparing herself. “I’m listening. Tell me what you came here to say.”

Taking a deep breath, I do exactly that.