Chapter 34

Aurora

It wasn't a long drive, but it felt like the longest one of my life. Leaving New York and heading back to the town I grew up in felt like abandoning my safety blanket and stepping out into a lightning storm. I was more nervous than I likely should have been, but with good reason.

Though my mom had mercifully attended my wedding—I would have been crushed if she'd declined the invitation—I hadn't seen her since. And hell, I didn't see her much at the wedding, either. She'd accepted my new life, but that didn’t mean she respected it yet. I got the feeling that we still had a few repairs to make to our bridge and I hoped that this visit would help do that.

"Stop stressing," Brendon chided.

I glanced over at him, arms crossed. "I'll stress if I want."

"It won't help."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that," he said, taking his eyes from the road just long enough to trap me in his judicious gaze. "I also know you, and I know that you're prone to spiraling which I think we can all agree is not good for you."

I sighed and turned in my seat, staring into the back of the car. Fiona was sleeping soundly in her car seat. Her tiny face was all squished up and wrinkled beneath her shock of red hair, and I indulged the urge to reach back and stroke my finger over her cheek. She was as soft as cashmere.

"How's she doing back there?" Brendon asked.

"Sleeping like...well, like a baby." I turned back to the front and watched as we passed by the sign welcoming us to Bridgefield. I turned to look back at Fiona again, staring for some time before Brendon finally questioned me.

"Whatcha doin' there?"

I laughed. "I just can't stop staring at her. She's so beautiful."

"I know how you feel." The look he gave me was equal parts love and lust, and even after all this time I still blushed like a teenager.

I twisted back to front again. We were getting close to my mom's place now. She was expecting us, so I knew that turning around and heading back into the city wasn't an option. Not that Brendon would let me do that, anyway.

"What are you so worried about?" he asked. "I'm going to be there. Fiona's going to be there. Your mom's going to be way too distracted by the world's cutest baby to harp on you about your life choices. We're past all that."

"I know, I know." I sighed. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

I brushed my hands awkwardly over my jeans and looked down at them. "It's just that... you've never been here before. I haven't been back since I first left. I think I'm just worried that my perfect life is in a bubble, and something about this place is going to be the thing that pops it."

"That's ridiculous, baby." Brendon snatched my hand out of his lap and squeezed it. His warm fingers easily eclipsed mine. I loved how big his hands were.

"Our life in New York does not exist in a bubble. It's not something you can just pop like that. It's real. It's every bit as concrete as the sidewalks, and even if this place somehow managed to put a crack in it—which it won’t—cracks can be filled."

I leaned back against the headrest and watched as we turned down my mom's street. We passed the house that she suggested I buy with Nolan, and a shudder worked through me.

"You're right." I managed a smile, even though my trepidation still lingered under the surface. "Let's do this."

Brendon parked and retrieved Fiona's car seat while I checked my face in the mirror and stepped out of the car. He met me at the bottom of the driveway and grabbed my hand.

"I'm excited," he said as we walked up. "I've always wondered about where you grew up. I think this is a good thing."

His enthusiasm was almost catching. It made me feel better about my whole bubble hypothesis.

I knocked on the front door, wondering how awkward this was going to be. I'd been dreading it for days.

The door swung open to reveal my mother's smiling face. This shocked me a little because, not only was she smiling, but it was a genuine, honest-to-God smile. No trace of sourness, no hint of contempt. She looked twenty years younger.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, wrapping me in a tight hug before I could even process what was happening. "I was beginning to think you got lost on your way back home."

A few months ago, that comment would have been a dig. Now it was clearly a jest.

"We were a little late setting off," I explained, pulling back from the hug. "Fiona was being fussy."

Mom waved me off. "No worries, darling. Babies are always fussy, even when they grow into adults!" She turned to Brendon and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a much lighter hug than I'd received before dropping into a squat to Fiona's level.

"Oh, she's just so beautiful," Mom cooed. "I feel so incredibly lucky. Come on in, come on in."

She disappeared into the house and Brendon and I followed. My anxiety slowly began to lessen, leaving space for warm nostalgia as I sucked in the familiar floral smell of the house. Mom liked to have fresh flowers at all times, and her current beau was keeping her up to her neck in them, I observed as I walked into the living room.

Mom ushered us onto the couch and took our drink orders. I was just glad I could drink wine again.

The smile she gave me as she passed me my wine made me feel like all the bad blood between us had never existed. That feeling was accompanied by a glorious rush of relief as I realized that I'd been worrying myself sick for no reason. Everything was going to be okay, just like Brendon said.

For the first few minutes, Mom sat in front of Fiona and stroked her tiny hand while she asked me questions about how things went at the hospital. She told me the story of my birth, and we laughed at some of the parallels—including both the dads being completely clueless and running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

"I was not clueless," Brendon defended.

"Not about the process of birth, darling," Mom said, touching him on the arm. "About how to deal with a woman in labor."

I laughed. "At one point, he whipped out a stress ball like he thought it was the holy grail. I threw it at his head."

Brendon took on a pained expression, but I saw the amusement in his eyes nonetheless. Plus, I knew he'd gladly be flogged in the streets if it meant I improved my relationship with my mother. As somebody who came from such a large, close-knit family, it distressed him to see me so estranged from my only living parent.

Another glass of wine and the conversation changed to encompass Bridgefield life. Not much had changed since I left, but Mom wanted to make sure I didn't miss a thing. She told me about the refurbishment at Fred’s Fishing Hole, and how she recently spotted a man with a man-bun on the street.

"It's beginning to feel very cosmopolitan," she said proudly, though I knew she would hate it if it ever did get that way.

"Nolan's got a new girlfriend." There was no antagonistic edge to her voice like there usually was when she talked about my ex-boyfriend. Then again, maybe it was just that I no longer heard it that way. Maybe some of the issues we had to get over were my problem as well. Imagine that.

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "And what's she like?"

Mom rolled her eyes. "She's a piece of work. Thinks she's Kim Kardashian, or whoever the young women are idolizing these days. Nolan struts her around town like she's some sort of trophy, even though I can't think of a single person here who'd go near her with a ten-foot pole." she clucked her tongue. "He's clearly still bitter about your break up."

I expected this to make me feel some sort of malicious glee, but it didn't. I just felt kind of bad for him. Everything that was wrong with his life he obviously brought on himself, but I still considered myself to be extremely fortunate to have had things work out for me the way they had. I hoped that one day Nolan would find that kind of happiness too.

"How's the job going?" she asked.

I ignored the fact that she still referred to what I did as "the job" in a way that clearly demonstrated she did not understand it. The fact that she was asking about it in general and with a positive tone was good.

"Well I'm on maternity leave now," I told her, "but Brendon and I have some big plans for when I'm back."

Brendon's eyes lit up. "We're planning on opening a couple new stores in the new year," he said. "Aurora's designs have given the company an excellent boost in sales and exposure. Our stock is at the highest it's ever been."

"That's wonderful news," Mom said, nodding. "Simply wonderful."

There was no sarcasm.

We stayed overnight in Bridgefield's only hotel, even though my mom insisted we stay with her. I didn't want to crowd her too much, and I also wanted to leave on a positive note. I'd take these happy memories with me back to New York, and maybe next time I came for a visit I wouldn't dread it so much.

Next time we came for a visit, though, we were definitely staying at one of the nicer hotels a town or two over. The Bridgefield Inn was hardly a fleabag, but I'd apparently gotten accustomed to a much higher standard of comfort.

"It's certainly no Fox Regent," Brendon commented in a light tone as we stepped into the suite.

I dragged my eyes from the garish wall decor to the old-as-nails TV balanced on the far wall, then to the godawful drapes. I tried to imagine any of Calypso's girls agreeing to work in a room like this and couldn't.

"You were the one who wanted to stay the night." I ribbed him in the side.

Brendon laughed. "Hey, we had a good night, didn't we?"

We had, so I didn't argue any more with him. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his torso and lowered my face against his chest.

"Being back here is so strange for me," I said, voice muffled by his shirt. "I remember living here, but it was like it was another life. It feels more like I'm remembering a dream than anything else."

Brendon's arms wrapped around me and he lowered his lips to my forehead. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

I shrugged. "Neither, I suppose. Just a thing. And you know what else?"

"What?"

I pulled back to look at him, smiling when I saw the look of pure adoration on his face.

"You were right. Coming here was a good idea."

Brendon's eyebrows shot up and he grinned. "I was, was I?"

"Don't get too cocky." I made a show of rolling my eyes. "You know it looks too good on you."

He dropped his voice to a husky whisper. "Maybe that's why I do it."

"You do it because you're insufferable."

"Impossible." Brendon kissed me, just a brief but loving peck. "You're living proof that I am, indeed, very sufferable."

What could I say? He was.