Tears filled my eyes.
“It’ll all be okay,” she whispered.
I swallowed again and nodded.
“Love you, angelface.”
The tears threatened to spill over so my voice was husky when I replied, “Love you too, Mom.”
“And so happy you found yourself a man who loves you like that.”
I deep breathed.
She calmly took a sip of coffee even though her eyes were bright too.
When she was done, she stated, “I hope you have a big spread planned for tonight. I’m starving.”
“We can start dinner now,” I offered gamely. “We’ll eat it early.”
“Let’s do that,” she agreed.
We did that.
The men came back.
I glanced at my father’s impassive face but my eyes became glued to Deacon as he followed Dad into the kitchen.
He came direct to me, his expression giving away nothing.
But when he made it to me, he curled a hand tight at my hip, bent close, touched his mouth to mine, lifted away, and said quietly, “All good, baby.”
I let out my breath.
“You get back, we’ll stay a few days, you don’t mind,” Dad said to the room and Deacon and I turned to him to see him sitting at the table, one hand back to his coffee cup, the other in Bossy’s ruff, her jaw on his thigh. “Take our Cassie to the slopes. You up for that?” Dad asked Deacon.
“Absolutely,” Deacon replied.
I nearly choked on my giggle at the very thought of badass Deacon on a snowboard.
But mostly it was a giggle of relief.
Deacon moved toward Dad at the table.
I looked to Mom and she got close to me.
“What’d I say?” she asked under her breath.
I looked to what I was doing at the counter.
But I did it muttering, “Whatever.”
She chuckled quietly.
As for me, I smiled at the counter.
Huge.
Somehow Deacon had made it all right.