Nash Brothers Box Set - Carrie Aarons Page 0,94

so that she trusts my judgment more.

“Those are all great reads. Harry Potter is one of my favorites, too. Based on your epic list of books already read, I’d go with The Giver and Chronicles of Narnia. Those are two of my favorites … you can’t go wrong with those books.”

I give her a little conspiratorial wink and write down the aisle numbers for her, and she’s off, skipping along to find her next story.

“You’re going to be a wonderful mother someday,”

a familiar voice says from behind me as I stand and watch the girl disappear between the shelves.

I turn to see my own mother, standing on the other side of the counter, smiling at me.

“Mom.” A grin splits my face as I walk into her arms for a hug.

Out of all the people in my life, my mom is my favorite. A breast cancer survivor two times over, she’s strong and resilient. My mother is the silent, supportive wife to a loud, outspoken politician, and while she may play a role in front of the cameras, she is the real head of our family. She is tough but fair, lovely and elegant, and has a way of being on your side without painting the world in rose-colored shades. When I got into fights with friends or had my heart broken or cursed a teacher for giving me a grade I felt I didn’t deserve, she would always hug me and give me a shoulder to cry on. But then we’d have an earnest conversation about the other side of the argument, and by the end of our talk, I’d see things in a different light.

My mother is the person who shaped who I am today, and I’m glad she is the female figure I get to look up to.

“If I learned anything about dealing with children, it’s from you.” I squeeze her once more before pulling back.

We’re a matched set, my mom and I. Same long dark hair, same blue eyes, same miniature stature.

“Well, whenever you’re ready, I’m here to watch them.” Her ocean-colored pools search mine.

I roll my eyes. “I think a lot of things would need to happen before children. Say, a boyfriend, perhaps.”

Chuckling, my mom walks to the cart stacked high with books I need to re-shelve. “I don’t think that’s the problem, my dear. There are a hundred men who’d fall all over themselves to land an intelligent, kind, beautiful woman like you. The thing is, you only want one.”

So that’s why she’s here. Is this the “go after him again” talk or the “you need to move on talk”? I wish I could gauge her mood, but she’s got her nose buried in the front flap of the latest romance novel that just arrived in the library.

A few minutes go by, and I move to the computer, checking on orders and emails. Mom sighs, picking up another book and closing it forcefully. She wants me to look at her.

“What is it, Mother?” Frustration itches my scalp.

“Love isn’t easy, Lily. I thought I taught you that by this point.”

“Mom, seriously? We’ve had this conversation a million times. It’s been ten years. The man does not want me.”

She tucks a lock from her signature bob haircut behind her ear. “Oh, nonsense, darling. Do you think I’d still be here if I took no for an answer? Not just with your father, but on this earth. I love that man, but your daddy has done some reprehensible things. I almost shot him when he voted against that public education bill … you might not remember it because you were little but he slept on the couch for a month. And if I’d let cancer tell me it wanted to take my whole body, well, I’d be dead. You have to fight for the things you want. Nothing is ever going to come easy.”

“I have fought, Mama. You know I have. He won’t listen or talk, so I’m out of options.”

Mom shakes her head again. “One last time. You have to try one last time. I know he dropped you off at your apartment. And someone saw you together at the carnival.”

“Seriously, people in this town have got to get lives of their own.” I blow a frustrated huff through my nose as I struggle to keep my composure.

“That might be. But … that intel leads me to believe you two are talking again. Or at least, seeing each other.”

“I don’t know, Mom.” I finally relent, not wanting