56. Meg
56
MEG
I t was just before eleven pm when I slipped through the front door of the Belfiore house, careful not to let it creak. The place was quiet in that Sunday-night way, when everyone would be asleep.
But the kitchen night light was on.
Mom was sitting at the table in her robe with her glasses slipping down her nose, a mug of hot chocolate in one hand, and her phone in the other, the light casting a soft blue glow across her face.
“Hello, baby,” she said, her voice warm and suspiciously amused. She gave me a once-over that started at my messy hair and ended at my wrinkled dress. “That wouldn’t happen to be the same dress you left in on Friday, would it, Megan Madonna?”
I bent down to kiss her cheek. “It is.” I slipped into the seat across from her. “Why are you still up?”
Cannoli slinked into the kitchen, tail wagging. We had a long greeting before he settled down at my feet.
Mom set the phone aside, like she’d been waiting for that question. “Oh, Byron and I had a chat today. Thought you might want to talk to me once you get home. I’ll get you a cup.”
“You and Byron what ?” I blinked, not sure I heard that right.
“You were napping after getting seasick, and he called me. Lovely man. So polite. How are you feeling, by the way?”
“Fine, thank you… Mom, what did you and Byron talk about, if I may ask?”
She poured me hot chocolate and placed the mug in front of me and kissed the top of my head.
“Well,” she said, sitting again, “he mentioned he asked you to marry him for a year. I told him absolutely not. Not my daughter. Not over my dead body. But that was before he explained why he couldn’t live without you. And why he didn’t just want to settle for a year but intended to make it until death do you part.”
“Oh. And now you’re okay with it?”
Mom tilted her head and studied me. “Do you not want me to be okay with it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, wrapping my hands around the mug for extra warmth. “I’m thinking of marrying a man I barely know. I thought, as my mom, you’d give me all the good reasons not to do it.”
“Do you want to know something, Meg? “Pops and I only knew each other for two weeks before we eloped to Vegas. We said our vows right there in the Little White Chapel and had our two-day honeymoon at the Flamingo Hotel. Imagine Nonna when she found out. She was furious. Even if we were both in our thirties, she dragged us back home and threw us a proper wedding in the backyard before we could scandalize the Belfiore name. And look at us now, we’ve been married for twenty-seven years. And sure, we’ve had our ups and downs, but there is no one else I’d rather have by my side through those ups and downs, than Pops.”
“Wait, you and Pops only knew each other for two weeks? And you had a quickie wedding in Vegas? You never told me any of that.”
“Well,” she said with a small smile. “I’m telling you now.”
“So, you’re not really the one to talk any sense into me.”
“Baby, I think you’ve already made up your mind,” she said softly. “You’re only looking for validation now. I’m not the one to give that to you. I can tell you that I like Byron, and I like the way he talks about you. And I think if your heart is even half as sure as his is, it might be enough to start something real. But in the end, I can’t decide this for you, Meg. Ask yourself what it is about this man that makes you realize this could be it.”
Steam was rising from my drink in delicate, spiraling ribbons, and I thought about how to best put what was happening to me in words. “Where do I even begin. Byron and I, we talk. We talk all the time. It’s not just that he knows how I feel, he gets why. He sees the cracks, the doubts, the messy parts of me I keep hidden from everyone else. And instead of running away, he leans in closer. He loves those parts. He owns his mistakes. He doesn’t try to be perfect, he’s learning, and just like me, he has a lot of doubt about whether he’s doing things right. He’s smart, really smart. And he’s funny. His humor, that sharp, quick wit, I’m addicted to it. But the best part, his laugh. You should hear his laugh, Mom. And if I’m the one who makes him laugh, I feel 10 feet tall. When we’re working together, if I know something better, he lets me take charge. But here’s the thing, he makes me feel like I’m the best thing to ever happen to him. And the cherry on top? He’s pretty hot, in and out of bed.”
Mom reached for my hand, her fingers warm. She held my gaze for a moment, tears glistening in her eyes. “If Byron sees you in all your light and shadow, and embraces it, then you don’t let that go. And the fact that you see him like that too, and respect him for it, well, that’s the kind of foundation you need in any long-term relationship. It’s the kind of love that lasts."
And now the damn tears welled up in my eyes, and for once I didn’t just bite them back. “So, you’ll be happy if I do this. I don’t want you to feel bad hiding it from Pops and the girls.”
She squeezed my hand and smiled. "I’m not just happy for you. I’m proud of you. You’ve found something real, Meg. Don’t let it slip away. And it won’t be a secret for too long, and when the time comes to tell everyone, I’ll deal with Pops and the girls.
“What do I say to Isabel? How do I hide this from her?”
“All you have to do is not say anything. From what I understand, Roman is waiting for the right time to get Isabel from Chatoise. Now, go tell Byron. I’m sure he’s been holding his breath for your answer. You know what to say.”