“But also understandable that he stayed,” Harrison counters. “He knows you, right?”
I nod and sniff.
“So, he knows you’re competitive as hell and winning Mrs. Sweets was important to you,” he says.
I nod again.
“And you flat-out told him to stay.” Harrison is in big bossy brother mode now. “And because he’s a full-grown man who trusts the full-grown woman he’s dating to know her own mind, he respected your wishes and stayed to fight for the both of you. Even though it isn’t his top priority.” With an eyebrow arch that says you got what you asked for, he pauses before adding in a softer voice, “And even though you aren’t there to cheer him on.”
I press a fist to my chest, a horrible suspicion rising inside of me. “Oh no. I should have stayed, shouldn’t I? Even though I’m a gross, blubbering, mortified mess.”
“No, baby,” Gram says. “What you should do is be kinder to yourself. You should have started about thirty years ago, and I should have done a better job of helping you.”
Joan takes a sneaky swipe at my skirt, claws fully bared. The cat has never scratched me outright, but she’s shredded her share of innocent clothing in her attempts to show me my place.
Which is second place. Behind her majesty, the princess.
But Gram catches the cat’s paw.
Fitting, since Gram never made me feel second best. “You did,” I assure her. “That’s why I’m here. Because I know I’m loved. Safe, no matter what.”
“But you should be safe and loved anywhere,” Gram insists. “Anywhere you are. Anywhere you want to be. You’re always worthy of that. You don’t have to be perfect all the time or do everything right. That’s your birthright.”
I swallow hard, rolling her words and Harrison’s over in my head, mashing them together like ingredients in a pie crust.
Mixing until they come together.
Maybe I’m like a pie, one that just needed a little more time in the oven. A little more love—from these two people, but mostly from the baker.
From myself.
I’m the only one who can give me that.
It’s my choice. I don’t have to be just so.
I can be just me.
“If I weren’t so hard on myself,” I say in a halting voice as the new possibilities emerge, “then I wouldn’t have been so upset. And I would have been able to stay.”
And be there for West.
Be there for my man.
Harrison smiles proudly, squeezes my hand. “Or to stay even if you were upset, trusting that it’s okay to feel the way you feel. That there’s no shame in having a cry in public once and a while.”
I level a hard look at my brother’s always-in-control face. “When’s the last time you cried in public?”
“Second grade, I think,” he says with a soft laugh. He shrugs. “But I’m still a work in progress. And I’m a guy. That has its own set of challenges. I’m supposed to be strong and tough and take the lead. I bet it wasn’t easy for West to stay there and let you go. I’m sure a part of him wanted to ride to the rescue, despite your wishes.”
I mash that into the pie crust too, and it almost sticks, but…
“But what if he doesn’t think it’s okay to cry in public?” I whisper, a little afraid to say this next part, even in front of Gram and Harrison. They know my horrid dating history, of course, but I’ve never let on, even to them, how much it’s messed me up. How much it’s made me doubt I’m worthy of that safe, loved space Gram’s talking about. “What if he’s like the other men I’ve dated. What if the second I show weakness or a side of myself he doesn’t like, he’s out the door?”
“Then he’s not the right man,” Harrison says.
“And he’s not worthy of you.” Gram tucks Joan between her leg and the arm of the couch then turns to face me fully, taking my hands in her smaller ones. “And maybe West isn’t the man for you. But sooner or later, you’re going to meet someone who sees how wonderful you are, sweet girl, and who appreciates every part of you. Even the weak parts and the scared parts. He’ll realize loving those parts of you is not only his job, but his honor and privilege. Just like loving those parts of him will be yours.”
Harrison swipes at his cheek with the back of his hand. I look over to see his eyes shining. I free one of my hands so I can wrap an arm around him. “You okay?” I ask.
“Don’t mind me,” he says, the words thick. “Just kind of looking forward to that. Sounds pretty special.”
“It is,” Gram says, giving my hand another squeeze before she pulls away. “So is the bond between a woman and the cat who hates the entire world on her behalf. I’m going to take Joan into the kitchen for a treat before she has a meltdown and tries to assassinate the drapes. Be right back with pie and ice cream.”