Page 96 of Hushed

“Please don’t try to text in French unless you clear it with me first,” I say.

“Too late.” My phone dings. I grab it. My family chat now has a picture of me with the words, Papa fier. Proud papa. Michel immediately hits it with a rolling on the floor emoji. I take a deep breath. “Well, that’s one way to undo the damage.”

“At least I can undo the damage with them.” He pulls me back against him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says. Then. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just…she’s just always been mean. All my life. I just wanted her to act like she liked me. I just feel like…” I feel him shrug. “I keep wanting her to be a normal mother once in a while.”

“Some people aren’t,” I say. I take a deep breath. “You don’t have to forgive her, you know.”

He tightens his grip on me. “I thought you were going to try to talk me into smoothing things out.”

“That’s up to you. Some people wind up causing a lot more damage in your life than out of it. I’m lucky. My parents love me. They are also a little intense. My father made you swear an oath about hockey this afternoon and nobody came to my defense when I said it was ridiculous. But they got in a minivan and they came. Things are different with you and your family.”

He’s quiet. “I wanted to love them,” he says. “So much. I would come back from school with my report card and I just wanted her to smile at me.” He takes a deep breath. It’s shaking. I keep my eyes trained on the opposite wall, and just feel my brave fiancé, cuddling against me. “I said that I would be a good husband, but my longest relationships weren’t that long.”

“Not a surprise,” I observe.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you were in the military. It’s tough, and a lot of military spouses aren’t prepared for what it takes. It’s hard.” I put my hand over the one he has on my chest. “I could tell you that you are a loving person and you would believe me, because you believe me about most things, and I would be guessing. You asked me a question about yourself that only you can answer, and it is going to take you years. I would rather sit here and not know it with you than hand you something tonight to make you feel better.”

“What if I’m still learning how to do it right and I’m still fucking up five years from now?”

“Then I get to say, ‘I love you, but I don’t love this.’ Remember, you told me to say that.”

“You’re so smart,” he says. “Such a smart man.”

I smile. “You’re trying to praise me to feel better about yourself. I didn’t realize until now. When you praise me, you feel that love reflected.”

“Holy shit! Holy shit, that’s amazing. How do you know these things?”

I shrug one shoulder. “Lucky guess.”

“Well, I’m the lucky one.” He snuggles against me. “I love you, baby boy.”

I kiss his knuckle and close my eyes.

“Baby boy?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you have married me if I didn’t hijack you into it?”

I open my eyes. “I don’t know,” I lie.

He props himself on one elbow. “Oh, so that’s how it is.” He puts his hand on my belly. “So you’re going to be the husband who lies to me if you think it’s going to hurt my feelings.”

I look up at him. “I don’t know yet,” I admit.

He traces his fingers down over my pelvis. “I do,” he says. “And I love you anyway.”

Chapter thirty-two

Levi

The Saint-Jacques clan converges on the townhouse the next morning at eight sharp, shepherded by Papa Saint-Jacques, who looks me in the eye and taps his watch significantly, to say, Punctuality matters: I got them here on time. I nod solemnly at him as the women kiss me on the cheeks.