“Sweetheart, why don’t you change the paint color in here? A nice pop of yellow would really brighten the place up.”

My mother walks around my office, examining every nook and cranny. And driving me up the wall that she wants to guilt me into painting sunshine yellow.

“I like my whites and beiges, but thanks, Mom.” I turn my head back to my computer, furiously checking for any reason to excuse myself and get back to work.

Every other week, she’d bring me lunch from my favorite Jewish deli near their house, and I loved the food and her company.

For about an hour and a half.

Anything after that and I was grasping at straws to get her to leave. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom to death, but her nagging can wear on me.

My staff has no idea what I’m talking about. Whenever she comes in, she has a hug and a piece of candy for each of them. Sometimes she brings the entire office lunch, and regales them with stories that they roll on the floor laughing at.

“Paxton says hi, by the way.” She slides this into the conversation as if it’s as casual as saying that she’s taking up yoga.

I nearly spit out the iced tea she brought for me. “What?”

“Oh, yeah, I stopped over at his apartment earlier to bring him some fresh baked bread that I whipped up yesterday.”

It’s official, my mother is smitten with my gentile boyfriend.

“Mom, you can’t just …” I laid my head in my hands.

I loved her, would do anything for her. But her nagging and meddling was going to give me a migraine. Not that anything was wrong between Pax and I, but … I’m not sure. Maybe I didn’t feel like bringing anyone too close to us yet, because we were enjoying each other’s company so much. I wanted to stay in this honeymoon phase a little bit longer, before we started coming home and complaining about work, or traffic, or why there were dirty dishes in the sink.

“What? I don’t get what the big deal is, Demi! He’s part of your life, so I want him to be part of ours. And he doesn’t mind, we sat down and chatted for almost two hours. He told me about his parents, and his retirement … he’s a very sweet boy, you know.”

I did know, and I had to smile because my mother could get anyone to talk. She could probably get those stoic guards outside of Buckingham Palace to talk, and it was part of their job description not to. But I also didn’t want her finding out about our past, in college. Perhaps one day I would tell her, but not now.

“What did he say?” I was actually genuinely curious about what he’d divulged to her.

“We talked about the accident some, but mostly about what his parents instilled in him as a child. And oh, he definitely wants to have children after he hangs up his cleats this year.” She winked at me as if I should start tracking my ovulation cycle in anticipation.

“Mom, oh my God …” I couldn’t do anything but laugh.

“I think you should have three, how wonderful would it be to have all those little bubbalas running around?!” She claps her hands together as if she can just picture it now.

I have to admit, I can see it too. A future, a family, with Pax. Little blond-haired boys rough housing in the yard, learning how to play football from their father. A girl who looked just like me, lying in my arms as I read her a book. It sounded like exactly what I wanted out of life.

“That would be pretty wonderful,” I tell Mom, because it’s impossible not to get swept up in her jubilation.

“That’s how I know this is the one. That Pax will be the man you marry.” She walks over and kisses me on the nose.

“How?”

“Because even when you’re annoyed with me, you still had a smile on your face the whole time. You never did that with Zachary. That’s how I know.”

My heart warmed, because she could see it too. “I told him about Ezra.”

Mom stilled, and then patted me on the shoulder. Her eyes looked out the glass walls of my office building, down onto Charlotte, but I knew she was seeing the son she’d lost.

“Good, you should share that with the person you love. He should know about our baby.” Her eyes are misty when she looks back at me.

She pretended not to wipe her eye on her sleeve. “Now then, when is the next time I’ll see you both? I think I should lay claim to every single night, put it in your wedding vows. You’ll spend them with your father and I, because I’m your mother and I say so.”

There was that Jewish guilt again, and Mom was the expert at it.

I stood and enveloped her in a hug, because while she could be a pest, I loved her fiercely. It was the kind of hug you gave your parent when you realized just how much they did for you, and how life would be drastically different if they weren’t the one who raised you.

“Whatever you say, Mom. We’ll be there.”