Page 6 of Make You Beg

“We’re engaged.”

“What in the world?”

I want to be happy for her, I want to congratulate her, but a sour taste gathers at the back of my throat.

I can’t do it.

I fold my arms. “You got engaged without telling me?”

Mom blushes, staring at her ring finger. “I had to follow my heart,” she says. “And I didn’t tell you before, because I knew you would react like this.”

“So you thought surprising me at lunch was going to be better?”

“No.” Her expression changes and she crosses her arms. “But I at least thought you would have kept this attitude to yourself. This is not up for discussion, Maddy.”

I sigh. “An engagement can be broken off.”

“Darling…” Mom softens again. She can’t be mad at me. Not when she knows what we’ve been through. “I know you’re hesitant about this. But if he weren’t serious about me, he wouldn’t have asked to meet you.”

“He did?”

I assumed Mom was the one who pushed for our fateful meeting, getting too excited about a man again and wanting me to meet him.

“Yes. And he wouldn’t if he was planning to leave, would he?”

I shrug. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Being with Lucas is an opportunity of a lifetime. Our lives will change, honey. We won’t have to live on ramen noodles or paycheck to paycheck. I want the best for us. Plus, he loves me.”

I take a few moments to process it. There it is, proof that there’s more to this than love.

“Okay. If you’re happy, I’m happy, Mom.”

The rest of the walk to the restaurant is silent. The streets are loud and busy while my thoughts suffocate me.

How can I trust that this man is good enough for Mom? That he won’t be like any of the others that have been in and out of her life?

I can’t blame Mom for wanting love, for craving it. Deep down, I know part of me wonders about it, too.

What it’s like to have someone who loves you, wants you, needs you. Someone who stays.

The financial security is important for her, too. We’ve struggled all our lives.

“Here it is.” Mom halts to a stop.

I turn to my left and face the big building in front of us.

The restaurant is majestic. Huge, really. Taking up at least half of the block. There are two floors, and the walls are glass from the outside.

As I stare at the see-through glass on the first floor, I catch a glimpse of someone.

A guy around my age sits in front of an older man with black hair and hints of gray, who has his back to me.

The handsome stranger has ink-colored hair, a bit messy but short, and the deepest blue eyes I’ve seen. He’s wearing a white shirt, and looks stiff as he sips from a glass of water.

My heart almost catches in my throat when his gaze meets mine for a fraction of a second.

The hair at the back of my neck stands, goose bumps expanding throughout my arms.