Miriam had come all this way, to interrupt the press conference in what might be her worst laid plan to date, to give her and Chase one last chance. One of them had to be brave. She didn’t know what he’d say, or what the future would bring, but she knew she could find a job “saving the world” anywhere she damned well pleased. Texas was in as much need of environmental love as Montana.
And she was fairly certain that Chase asking “What do you want?” had everything to do with him catering to her wishes, and nothing to do with what he actually wanted.
Déjà vu all over again.
Facing his mother now, Miriam straightened her spine and vowed not to let this woman intimidate her. Ten years ago, she’d endured Eleanor’s taut words and prim body language not knowing how to respond. But Miriam was stronger now.
“Is Penelope aware you’re here?” Eleanor, who endeavored to take control of every situation, asked.
“I’m not here to see Penelope. I’m here to see your son, Chase.”
The older woman’s eyebrows climbed her smooth forehead. “I know you don’t have much political know-how, but surely you’re aware that your being here puts his campaign in grave jeopardy.”
What Miriam wassure about was that Chase was an amazing man, an amazing politician with amazing friends on his side—one of them a plucky, capable PR maven. He’d come out of this snag just fine. He’d been certain of it, and so was she.
“He’s a big boy,” Miriam replied. “I’m sure he’ll handle whatever fallout occurs from my walking through those doors and saying what I came here to say.”
Affronted, Eleanor’s jaw dropped. “Stefanie, kindly call hotel security before Miriam causes a ruckus.”
“I want to hear what she has to say.” Chase’s sister flashed a pretty smile, and like that, Miriam became a big, big fan of Stefanie Ferguson.
Acting on instincts born of a thirty-three-year-old woman—and far from the headstrong twenty-three-year-old she’d been ten years ago—Miriam reached out and touched Eleanor’s arm.
“I don’t want this to end with me crying or hating you again. I don’t want this to end with me conceding and him staying quiet to keep the peace. I’m going to tell Chase how I feel and let him decide what to do from there.”
“How do you feel?” Eleanor’s voice was coated in shock, or maybe denial. Miriam wasn’t sure the woman really wanted to know, but she’d asked, so here went nothing.
“I loved him ten years ago. I wanted nothing more than to be at his side for the rest of our lives. I never thought I’d see him again. He’s the one who came back to Montana—who bought the mansion above the beach where we used to trespass and skinny-dip.”
Eleanor paled, but Miriam wasn’t through yet.
“I was the one who showed up on his doorstep with sweet potato pie, but make no mistake, Eleanor. Chase is the one who came back.”
He’d pursued her under the guise of getting her back into his bed. Under the guise, she suspected, of proving to himself that he was over her. But the conclusion she’d arrived at that sleepless night was that he’d needed that guise. It was the safest path out of Montana and back to Dallas. To his destiny, and leaving her to hers.
“I never expected to fall in love with him again,” she confessed. “In a way I guess I didn’t. I think I never fell out, and those dormant feelings were jarred awake when I spent Thanksgiving weekend with him. I know you don’t think I’m good for Chase, but I don’t care what you think. We were too careful the first time around. I’m not going to make the same mistake this time.”
An excited squeal came from over her shoulder. Miriam turned to find Stefanie cupping her mouth with both hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Sorry,” she parted her hands to say. “I’m sorry. This is so exciting.” She raised her eyebrows and grinned at her mother.
Eleanor’s expression was more downtrodden and tired then argumentative. That was certainly a surprise. Miriam remembered the older woman’s words being formed of steel wool. No doubt a similar speech lingered at the base of Eleanor’s throat about how Miriam and Chase were too young or would never make it, or about how Miriam would ruin his reputation. Or... maybe not? Maybe Eleanor had learned something over the last decade, as well.
Chase’s mother scanned Miriam’s attire, a simple black dress, high heels and long coat. Miriam gripped her Coach purse, the only nice handbag she owned, and bore the older woman’s scrutiny.
“You’re serious,” Eleanor concluded. “You love Chase in a real and lasting way.”
Miriam shook her head, but not in denial. “Real is the only way I know how to love him.”