“Very,” I shot right back.
“Can I have my tablet, then?”
“Nice try, buddy.”
“The TV? We could all watch a show together.” That perked him up, brows riding high as if his manipulation was irresistible.
“Nope. You know the rules. No electronics at the dinner table. We can have one meal a day where we all have an actual conversation, can’t we?”
Thomas’s shoulders sagged. He might as well have gotten the news that he was grounded for a month. “Why do I have to have the most uncool mom on the planet? No one else has to do it.”
I tapped his nose. “Maybe I just love you more.”
Okay, who said I couldn’t wield my own manipulation?
He rolled his eyes, but there was affection behind it, the kid trying to fight the smile that pulled to his mouth.
Such a tough guy.
Good thing I knew better.
Gramma laughed, transferring the roast to a platter, talking over her shoulder as she did. “Don’t let her fool you, Thomas. Your mother used to try to pull the same stunt on me when she was growin’ up. She always had an excuse why that television should be blaring during dinner. Nearly drove your Grandpa Smitty straight to the loony bin.”
Thomas’s mouth dropped open. “Mom got to watch TV during dinner? That’s so not fair.”
“Not even close. But you have to give her credit. She tried just as hard as you.” She knocked him with her hip. “Might as well give it up, kid. Because I loved your mother more, too . . . just like she loves you.”
It was all affection.
Devotion spinning all around us.
Thomas so comfortable that he did, in fact, give it up. He helped Mallory climb into her chair while I wrangled Sophie into her high chair. Gramma heaped a ton of food onto each of their plates, roast and potatoes and carrots.
“Grams has mad cooking skills, that’s for sure,” Thomas said, shoving his fork into his mouth and talking around his food. I didn’t even have the heart to tell him not to talk with food in his mouth.
He’d had enough of that polishing to last him a lifetime.
Our meals had never been shared like this before.
The comfort of it only found here.
Where a true sort of family resided.
Where just being together meant more than anything else.
My gaze roamed around the table.
My grandmother who’d raised me with my grandpa before he’d passed eleven years before.
My children.
Thomas and Mallory and Sophie.
Love shining so bright.
Thomas chatted with my gramma as if he were the man of the house, which she continually told him he was, and Mallory laughed uproariously at just about everything, while Sophie babbled a little song while she flung half her food into her hair and onto the floor.
Hope filled me full.
Joy so bright.
Heart beating wild with the possibility of it all.
* * *
I’d been sitting in my room for the last two hours, trying to settle the riot inside me that writhed and heaved.
The kids had long since been bathed and tucked into bed. A continuation of our story had been made, a new twist in the Ruby Prince and Priceless Princesses, two new pages drawn into our sketchbook.
A dragon and his lair.
I guessed maybe it had been fed by the text message that had been waiting from Reed after we’d gotten finished with dinner.
Reed: You’re running out of time to make the right choice. Do you think I don’t know you were at that gala? Sniffing around? You’re treading into dangerous waters, Grace. It’d be a shame if you drowned.
Terror had raced my veins when I’d read the words. It hadn’t even been a veiled threat, his blatant hostility growing greater and greater with every day that passed, my worry amplifying in direct correlation to his warnings.
I knew the only thing holding him back from coming completely unglued was the flimsy evidence I had against him, which probably amounted to nothing, but somehow had worked at keeping him at bay.
The problem was, I was beginning to feel that assurance slipping. Reed’s demands had gone from pleas for me to return to threats of what would happen if I didn’t.
As if I’d ever trust his feigned affections. Not ever again. I’d already seen the monster hidden underneath.
I’d met Reed in college. Our love had been sweet, if not a little boring. Maybe I should have given more credit to that, but I’d been so young that I hadn’t even had time to read the warning signs before he had a ring on my finger and had moved me from my dorm and into his house.
Looking back, I could see that it’d been nothing but a strategic move. A game piece.
It hadn’t been long before I was just another pawn he kept under his thumb.
I refused to succumb to it.
Antsy, I glanced around my childhood room.