I wanted to tell her I loved her, but not with tears staining her cheeks.
Instead, I just pulled her closer and breathed in the scent of her hair, wishing we could sit on the porch every night and talk about happier things.
Chapter 18
Arya
Iwaslateforwork, but I didn’t care. I had laid in bed after waking, replaying the special moment on the porch with Tristan.
But I was still worried about Rebecca Adler. She was definitely keeping tabs on us through her minions around town, and it was getting exhausting wondering what her next plan of attack would be. I felt better sharing my fears with Tristan, but there was so much unknown, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t fully protect me from her.
I walked over to the house and immediately went to the kitchen. Tristan, Shiloh, Grace, and William were all out in the backyard. From the window, I saw Tristan watering the garden and sporadically turning around to spray Shiloh with the cool water. Her face lit up when the water hit her, and she let out a delighted squeal while she ran around in circles. Tristan’s face was full of joy. Grace was clapping with laughter and William pulled out a squirt toy he had hidden by his chair and aimed it at Tristan. More peals of laughter drifted in through the open window.
My heart yearned to be a part of this picture. But instead, I was in the house, doing the breakfast dishes. Because, as Rebecca had been clear, I was the help.
A few hours later, William was taking a nap, and Tristan and Shiloh were playing in the small kiddie pool they had set up in the backyard under a large umbrella. Tristan was sitting in a lawn chair, dipping his feet in, while Shiloh splashed around him.
“Hi Grace,” I said, as I walked out to where she was sitting in the shade on the back porch.
“Arya, how are you, my dear?” She had the warmest smile, and being around her felt like basking in the sunlight. A smile from Grace was restorative and comforting.
“I’m fine,” I said, apparently unconvincingly. Grace turned and gave me one of her suspicious looks. If a smile made you feel like a blooming flower, her suspicion made you wilt.
“I’m sure you are.” She was quiet for a moment. “It's none of my business, but you know that Tristan’s mom can be a difficult woman to deal with. She has her thoughts and opinions, and if you don’t agree, she’ll find a way to cut you down. I know she isn’t a fan of any woman for Tristan that isn’t Regina. She’s obsessed with the three of them being a shiny, perfect, happy family. But I see what’s right for Tristan. He does, too. And we both know it’s not Regina.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”
“We all know that you and Tristan are sort of a thing,” she said, returning her attention to the magazine she was flipping through. As if that statement were a complete fact.
“We’re just friends,” I said, but she just tsked in response.
“Honey, calling you and Tristan friends is like saying Shiloh lacks energy. He’s in love with you. I know my grandson and I can see it, plain as day. I know you’re in love with him, too. And I'm going to stick my neck out and say I am a big fan. So is William. So you don't need to go pretending around this house on our account,” she said, patting the chair next to her. “Sit with me for a moment.”
“You look like you need to talk to someone,” she added with another warm smile.
And I did need to talk to someone. Preferably someone who wasn’t against the idea of Tristan and I. Hearing that William and Grace were rooting for us completely brightened my day.
She looked at me expectantly.
“It's all so complicated, Grace,” I began. “I do love Tristan. And I think he loves me. But I know his parents don't approve of me. Because of that, if we fought them, it would impact my mom and Mason. So they would never approve of our relationship. My mom is less worried about what Rebecca will do to her and more worried about me being caught in the middle of her wrath. But everyone is scared of his parents and no one wants to cross them.”
Grace sighed.
“My son was never into this Mafia-esque way of running his life until he met that vile woman. She turned him into something he’s not and she’s driving this family apart. I know she’ll stop at nothing to get you out of the way. But trust me, they’ve both moved on.” Grace took my hand, as if emphasizing her statement. “If you love Tristan, fight for him. I can see that he’s more than willing to fight for you.”
“But I'll lose my job, and Mason might lose his job at the distillery. Who knows what might happen to my mom's bakery? I can’t afford that.”
Grace shook her head and muttered a curse aimed at Rebecca.
“Rumor has it the bakery is doing very well, and you have some big ideas,” she said. “My advice is to focus on the things that give you freedom, independence, and mostly, joy. Be a rebel. You’ll never be as young as you are now,” Grace said. “As for Mason, it’s admirable that you’re concerned, but he’ll have to find his own way. I also know my son, and he’s not as vindictive as Rebecca. And despite her many, many flaws, she doesn’t want public fights–that would look bad on the family–so I think Mason would be reasonably safe. If he wants to stay there.”
Grace gave me a lot to think about. For the first time, I let myself feel something close to hope. It was scary, but also freeing.
Tristan
Shiloh was chatting non-stop with Regina on FaceTime, telling her all about the adventures she’d been having in Bardstown. I stayed on the call with her. It may have been unconventional, but we were still a family. Co-parenting with Regina went surprisingly well, and we were starting to enjoy each other’s company, as friends. Regina was supportive of my life, and it felt good to still have her in my corner.
Eventually, Shiloh’s attention span drifted, and she went back downstairs to work on her latest art project. That left Regina and I to catch up alone.