Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,75
out on the golf course wielding a large metal object?”
“Yes. Figuratively speaking, I am.”
I grinned and lifted my coffee cup again. “If it shuts you up, I’ll consider it.”
It worked—she remained quiet the rest of the way home—but I kept hearing her words in my head. Even though I knew she’d been half-joking, something she said had burrowed into my brain and taken root.
You can’t be afraid.
Why was it bothering me?
I wasn’t afraid. That wasn’t it at all. I was only concerned for my daughter. It was Mariah’s fears that needed calming, not my own. It was Mariah who associated love with loss, not me. It was Mariah who was terrified that something bad would happen. It was Mariah who needed protecting from it all.
It wasn’t me.
After we got home, I unpacked, putting away toiletries, hanging up my suit, making a pile of things for the dry cleaner’s, and tossing dirty laundry in my hamper. When my bag was empty, I shoved it to the back of my closet.
Then I stood in front of my mirror and removed the wedding band I’d worn almost every day for the last ten years. I’d put it back on this morning for two reasons—to avoid an uncomfortable conversation with Mariah in front of my mom if either of them noticed it was missing, and so that I wouldn’t lose it. It didn’t hold the emotional weight for me it once had, but it wasn’t meaningless either.
In fact, placing it in a small cufflink box and tucking it at the back of a dresser drawer felt very meaningful—a conscious step out of the past and into the future.
It was time.
Hopefully, Mariah would see it that way too.
On Monday morning, I called Mariah’s therapist and left a message requesting an appointment this week. She called me back later that afternoon, while I was catching up with some paperwork.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Cole, it’s Jessalyn Wells returning your call.”
“Hey, Jessalyn. Thanks for calling back.”
“Sure thing. Your message said you’re looking for an appointment later this week. So is this in addition to Mariah’s usual Tuesday appointment or in place of it?”
“This would be in addition to Mariah’s usual appointments, and actually . . .” I hesitated, wondering if this was weird. “She wouldn’t even be there. It would only be me.”
“Oh?”
“There’s something I’d like to ask you about—something I need to approach Mariah with and I’d like to get your opinion on the best way to do it. I don’t think it will take long.”
“Oh. I see. Is it something we might discuss over the phone?”
“No, I think I’d better come in. This is a pretty big deal, and I really want to make sure I understand what the steps are.”
“I understand,” she said. A few clicks of her keyboard. “How’s Thursday morning at ten?”
“Fine,” I said, scribbling it down on a piece of paper. “I’ll be there, thanks.”
On my way home from work that evening, I called Cheyenne.
“Hello?”
My heart thumped harder at the sound of her voice. It had barely been twenty-four hours since I’d seen her, but it felt like longer. I wished I were driving home to her. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi. How are you?”
“I’m good. Just on my way home. How are you?”
“Good. Tired. My kids wore me out today. I think they stored up all their energy over the weekend and unleashed it on me today in the classroom.”
I laughed. “Aw, give ‘em a break. Remember how tough those weeks were leading up to Christmas break? They can’t concentrate.”
“I still have to teach them.”
“How many more school days until vacation?”
“Eleven.” She sighed. “I’m not sure any of us will make it.”
“I think you should play hooky this week. Take a day off and spend it with me.”
She laughed. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I’m serious. I’m off Wednesday and Thursday.”
“Lucky you. I wish I could, but I just took two days off last week. My principal would probably fire me if I took another so fast.”
“Then I’d arrest him. Throw him in jail.”
She giggled. “Her.”
“Whatever.”
“I’ll think about it. What about this weekend? Any plans?”
“I told Mariah I’d take her skating at the park Friday evening.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“I’m thinking that’s the night I’ll tell her about us.”
“Oh. That’s—that’s sooner than I thought.” She hesitated. “Are you nervous?”
“Yes, which is why I made an appointment to talk to her therapist on Thursday morning. I’m going to ask her advice.”
“That’s great.” Cheyenne sounded cheerful again. “I bet she’ll have some really good insights.”