more children, in time. And you could have a more serious job than that photography studio of yours.” Her mother paused, seeming to muse over something. She was more than likely thinking of her political campaigns, during which she ran on family values. Rachel being a stay-at-home mom would work well as a photo-op for that, too. She was surprised her mother hadn’t thought of it before.
“Thanks for sharing your thoughts,” Rachel said, struggling to keep her voice even. “But I’m perfectly happy with my studio.”
“Don’t be naïve, Rachel. Photography isn’t enough to sustain a family, and how are you supposed to care for Scott on such an unpredictable schedule? You can’t juggle it all. Parts of your life will start to slip through the cracks.” She’d heard the lecture before.
“I’m not marrying somebody you’ve hand-picked just to be respectable, and so that I can come back into the family fold and stop being an embarrassment to your senatorial campaign.” It was an old argument, and Rachel was tired of it. Too tired. She pushed away all her arguments and hurt feelings and the old cycles she found herself trapped in so often. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”
She ended the call and tossed the phone back in her purse, her hand trembling on her wine glass.
“Are you okay?”
Rachel turned to find Jonas standing behind her. How long had he been so close? From the expression on his face, he’d heard the entire conversation.
Rachel flushed red as she looked down into her glass to avoid eye contact, her shoulders slumped. Jonas’s heart raced at the sight of her this way—almost resigned. What had she meant about marrying someone respectable? She drew in a deep breath and gazed up at him, forcing a smile to her lips. “I’ll be okay.”
“Your mother seems to have some strong opinions.”
“Ha. You could say that.” She shook her head, glancing over at the sofa to check on Scott, but not before he’d noticed the hurt reflected in her eyes. “I don’t know why I let her upset me so much. She’s been saying the same things for years.”
“About getting married?” He frowned, gesturing for her to move back into the living room.
“About everything.” This time she sat on the loveseat, and Jonas used the opportunity to sit next to her. He relished the heat of her body so close to his. It would be infinitely better if she wasn’t upset, but then again, he wanted to comfort her—somehow.
“She didn’t like my major in college. She didn’t like the one guy I dated in high school. Everything has always been about her ambitions.”
It was easy, Jonas knew, to go along with what your family wanted. The thought of her marrying someone else made his stomach turn. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t have any claim on her. It was only that he’d lost her once already. Tension soaked into his skin. Jonas could lose her again before he even had a chance to try. That was reality.
Rachel stared straight ahead. He watched as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She took in a deep, shuddering breath, then blinked them away. “I can’t believe I let her get to me. I only answered because I thought there might be some kind of emergency,” she said, agonizing over the decision.
“And there wasn’t?”
“The emergency was that I’m not married yet.” She let her head fall against the back of the sofa. “She wanted me home for Christmas to meet men. And—more of the same. The photography studio isn’t good enough. It’s not enough for Scott. And we both know what she means by that.”
“I don’t,” he admitted.
“She means that I’m not good enough for Scott.”
He put his fingertips on her chin and turned her face toward his. “You are good enough for Scott. You are such a good mom.” It took the breath out of him to say it, but it was true. “You’re amazing and strong and resilient, and I believe in you.”
Rachel searched his eyes as if she could find proof there. “That means a lot to me.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “It’s just that I know how quickly people can go from saying they believe in you, to saying that they don’t think you can handle a situation. Until they want to make the decisions for you.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, there was no sign of her tears.
“You’re astonishing,” he said, blown away by her self-control.
This earned him a slow