Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,77
until you were absolutely certain the relationship between the two of you was serious.”
“It’s—I’d say it’s serious.” I cleared my throat. “We’ve had feelings for each other for a while. It just took us some time to act on them. We wanted to be sure this was right.”
Jessalyn nodded. “Sounds like you both have good, level heads on your shoulders. That said, I might avoid sleepovers until things are more settled.”
“Well, considering that we both live with our mothers, those are pretty much out anyway,” I said wryly. “I’m in the process of purchasing a new house, but I hear what you’re saying, and I agree.”
“Good. I’m not saying you have to be remarried for that to happen,” she said gently, “but sometimes that is best.”
I glanced down at my bare ring finger, my chest growing inexplicably tight. “I understand.”
“Your situation is also a little unique in that there is no ex-spouse involved,” Jessalyn went on. “But that doesn’t mean that she’ll jump at the opportunity to have a new mom. Every child is different, but many children don’t like the thought of someone attempting to replace the parent they lost. You’ll want to be sensitive to that, especially if Mariah isn’t able to articulate what she’s feeling exactly.”
“Right.”
“But remarriage is a wonderful thing.” Jessalyn smiled and sat back. “It’s another loving adult in her life, another reassuring presence. And a chance for you to demonstrate a healthy, intimate relationship. She needs that.”
I nodded, clearing my throat. “Remarriage is kind of a scary topic.”
“Oh?”
“Not necessarily for me personally,” I said quickly, because I wasn’t scared of anything. “But because of a promise I made to Mariah when she was five.”
“What kind of promise?”
I told her about the time Mariah had come to me and asked if I ever planned to get married and leave her behind, and I’d vowed it would never happen. “A friend at school had been telling her that her father was getting remarried and moving away, and it was very upsetting to Mariah.”
“Of course,” said Jessalyn, nodding. “I can see how it would be. And sometimes we say things to our children to make them feel safe in the moment, and it’s only later that we realize that the truth might have allowed for some needed emotional development.”
“But it wasn’t like I said something untrue,” I argued. “I really never saw myself getting married again.”
“It’s wonderful that you met someone who made you change your mind, isn’t it?” Jessalyn smiled knowingly at me.
“I guess. I mean yes—it is.” But the topic of marriage was making me feel anxious, and I decided it was because I was worried my daughter would object. “What should I do if Mariah doesn’t see it that way? If she sees it as a threat?”
“You tell her you love her. Give her a hug. And try again another day,” Jessalyn said gently. “If you really care for Cheyenne, and you want her in your life, you want Mariah to feel good about it. Don’t give her any reason to believe you’re choosing someone else’s happiness over hers.”
I wrote frantically, copying down as many words as I could recall. “When do you think is the right time to do it?”
“That’s up to you,” she said. “But given the circumstances, I really don’t see a reason to wait too long. If you’re sure of your feelings for Cheyenne—”
“I’m sure of them.”
“Then talk to her. Just remember, no matter how much she likes Cheyenne, she’ll need time to get used to the idea of the two of you.”
“Okay.” I closed my notebook and stuck my pen inside the spiral. “Thanks a lot for talking to me. I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure. And no charge for the visit,” she said, rising to her feet. “Just let me know how it goes.”
Eighteen
Cole
That night, Cheyenne and I had dinner over at Griffin and Blair’s.
They lived in what had previously been Griffin’s bachelor pad, which was located on the second story of an old fire station that housed the Bellamy Creek Garage on the ground level. Griffin and Cheyenne’s grandfather had started the business, their dad had run it for years before he died suddenly of a heart attack, and Griffin had run it for the past six years.
I was excited about spending the evening with her, but I was also distracted—going over Jessalyn’s advice in my head constantly. On the drive over, I’d told Cheyenne all about it, and she was cautiously optimistic, just like Jessalyn was.