If We Never Met (Whisper Lake #5) - Barbara Freethy Page 0,83
Lake," her mom said. "But sometimes I think the mountains act as barriers, instead of motivators. We have everything we think we need right here, but maybe we don't."
She met her mother's gaze. "I know you're talking about me."
"Not completely," her mom denied. "I was just thinking that Micah found clarity when he left his home and came here. Maybe it's leaving your comfort zone that really makes the difference, not the location. Not that I want you to leave, Keira. I just don't want to be the reason you stay."
"Mom, you don't have to worry about that." She didn't want to have this conversation with her mother now, not with Dante and Micah listening in.
"But I do worry about you, Keira," her mom continued. "I was the reason you came back. It wasn't your choice. You've taken such good care of me. However, I worry that you're missing out on the life you were meant to have."
"I make my own choices. And I don't think being happy is about geography; it's about who you are with and what you do with your life." She cleared her throat, realizing she was getting too close to her issues with Dante. "Let's talk about something else. What were you and Dante laughing about when I called you in for dinner? I have a feeling you were talking about me."
"I'm afraid I can't reveal that," Dante said, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
"That answer will drive her crazy," her mother said. "Keira hates when people have a secret."
"I do hate that." She gave Dante a pointed look. "So, spill."
"Your mom told me about the time you tried to dye your hair blonde and ended up a greenish-yellow color," he said.
She groaned. "You told him that story, Mom?"
"He mentioned how we both have the same beautiful brown hair, and I told him that in middle school you really wanted to be blonde like Chloe and Gianna, so you tried to dye your hair, but it turned green and yellow, and you couldn't go to school for a week until we got your hair fixed."
"Why did you want to be blonde?" Dante asked.
"I'm pretty sure there was a boy involved. I was thirteen and stupid. I'm sure you did dumb things at that age."
"Did he ever,” Micah said.
"Hold on," Dante interrupted, putting up a hand. "I think we've all shared enough family stories for one night."
"That's true," she agreed. "I'm going to clear the plates."
"I'll help." Dante got to his feet.
"And I'll keep your mom company," Micah said.
They cleared the plates from the table, making several trips in and out of the kitchen before she started to rinse and load the dishwasher. "I can take care of this," she told Dante, "if you want to hang with my mom and your brother."
"No. I want to hang with you." He slid his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck until she turned her face to catch a hot kiss. "Nice," he murmured.
"It is nice, but I need to finish the dishes."
"Am I distracting you?"
"You know you are."
"Maybe I should do the dishes for you. Win you over. Your mom seems to think that men doing household tasks is just the ticket for that."
"I wouldn't take advice from my mother. She's been single most of my life, and her choices in men have never been the best. I don't think Mark will be an exception."
"She really is taken with him."
"He's definitely her favorite topic of conversation." She paused. "When I was talking to Micah, he mentioned that you're seeing Grayson tomorrow. I didn't realize it was that soon."
"It was supposed to be Thursday, but he had to change it, because he has to be back in Denver that day."
"Are you worried about it?"
"There's nothing I can do, so whatever it is, it is."
"That's very Zen-like."
He made a face at her. "I'm not feeling Zen, but I can't predict what the diagnosis will be, so I just have to wait."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
"It's not a problem. I'm hoping for the best, but we'll see. I've only been in rehab for a week, so it may be too early for a definitive answer. If there has been good progress, that will be something I can work from."
"Does it feel like you've made progress?"
"It does, but whether or not I can throw a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball is another story."