Chapter Thirteen
Hayden
“Honey, you just be your bubbly, sunshine self and that woman will adore you just like I do,” Stella’s mom, Marian Harper, hollers, appearing beside Stella in the face chat video.
My heart warms at her words. “You’ve been a great stand-in mom to me, Marian.” She told me at Stella’s wedding that I could be another daughter to her, and she has intentionally reached out to me since then, making sure I was fed, socializing appropriately, and emotionally full.
“I’ve talked with Ruth before, and you will love her.
Better yet, she will love you. You have nothing to worry about.
” Stella offers a broad smile before looping an arm around Marian’s waist. I notice Marian lean in, and I feel a momentary stab of pain in my heart.
The brave woman has been living with crippling rheumatoid arthritis for years.
I stop pacing and swipe at the sheen of sweat on my forehead. I’ll need to blot my face with a tea tree wipe before I leave.
“You both are right. I’ve got this,” I say unconvincingly. Maybe the more I say it, the more I will believe it? “But what if she doesn’t think I am good enough for her son?”
Stella raises an eyebrow, and Marian’s expression closely matches with her daughter’s. I wonder if any of my expression matches my mother’s. “I don’t think that will be the case, but even if it is, your worth is not attached to what she thinks of you.”
“You’re right,” I relent. “But I’m still a nervous wreck.”
“That’s okay,” Stella says. Marian nods. “Drink some decaffeinated tea to soothe your nerves, do some deep breathing, pray about it, and then tilt your head and put your shoulders back and go meet your mother-in-law.”
I shudder at those last words.
“And remember it’s only temporary,” Marian adds. I release my breath, letting that word wash over me. Temporary.
“Thanks, ladies. I should get started on that list.” I paste a smile on my face and wave goodbye. The call ends. My smile drops.
I slump into my chair, still thinking of the word “temporary.” Marian is right. Ruth will not be my permanent mother-in-law. Once Darcy and I divorce at the end of this thing, I’ll divorce Ruth, too. Done. Simple as that.
With that settled, I make chamomile tea, blot my face, whisper a prayer, and head out the door to meet my temporary mother-in-law.
The walk to Five Four Coffee is short and cool.
The March weather is pleasant, and the light breeze is enough to keep me from perspiring.
Once inside, I order an Americano under the name of Tohru, since Fruits Basket has been my choice of anime lately, and sit in the back corner so that I have a full view of the door as I wait for Ruth Marshall.
Two minutes later, she walks through the door and quickly locates me in the back.
I stand up and wave enthusiastically, which translates to an awkward not-sure-if-she’s-a-human look for me.
Ruth doesn’t seem to mind because she grins widely and waves back with a wildly flapping hand that matches my energy.
Her walk—a bouncing cadence—is cause to believe the lively woman isn’t actually in her sixties.
Her blonde hair is the same color as her son’s, though there are many streaks of gray. Somehow, she works the look. The closer she gets, I’m startled for the second time by her eyes. They are a deep brown that warms the soul of the one looking into them—the complete opposite of Darcy’s icy blues.
“Hello, Hayden. It’s good to see you again. Thanks for meeting me.” Ruth wraps me in a hug, and unlike last time, I let my arms circle around her slim frame. I don’t pull her close, but I don’t have to—she smashes herself against me with enough force to push my boobs to my chin.
Is that what motherly love is supposed to feel like? Hugs that smash boobs? Because that’s how Marian hugged me, too.
“It’s no problem,” I reply, still smushed against the smaller woman. I drop my arms and begin to step away. She releases me. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
“Sit down, sit down. Let’s chat for a little while first. I’ll go order coffee.”
“No, let me! What do you want?”
Ruth smiles. “You’re precious. Thank you. I’ll take a skinny vanilla latte.”
“One skinny vanilla latte coming right up.” I grab my purse and walk back to the counter where blue-haired, boring Kale stands with a slight frown.
I order and give him the name Ruth. There is no way I’m giving a fake name for my mother-in-law’s drink.
The coffee is made quickly, and I return to the table with the coffee in hand.
“Thank you again, Hayden.”
“My pleasure.” What? Do I work at Chick-fil-A all of a sudden? I mentally facepalm myself.
“So, tell me about yourself. Darcy has told me very little.”
I sit down in my chair and try to hide the fact that I feel slighted that Darcy hasn’t spoken about me to his mother. But then I remember this is all a ruse.
“Oh dear. Don’t feel bad. Darcy hardly talks to anyone about anything personal,” Ruth continues before I can respond to her question.
I snort. “No, ma’am, it’s not that. I know better than most people that your son is a tough shell to crack.”
Immediately, I regret the words, but Ruth simply laughs. “Right you are. Having to work side by side with him all day is a tedious task, I’m sure.”
My head wants to nod along with her, and it wouldn’t be amiss to do so, but Darcy isn’t all bad.
“You raised a good man, Ruth. Yes, he can be complicated, picky, stubborn, cold, quiet, and demanding, but he is also considerate of his subordinates. He takes care of us and respects us. He values our time and energy. I think he even wants to be more socially involved, but maybe he doesn’t quite know how…
” I trail off, contemplating that last tidbit.
Darcy is a difficult man, but what if it’s because he has so many walls up?
What if he is afraid of something? What if he is more like me than I realize?
“My son couldn’t have chosen a better woman,” Ruth says, dabbing a tissue at the corner of her eye.
“But you don’t even know me yet.” If she knew I was orphaned, grew up bouncing between homes, running away, and the things I have seen and done in my past, she would take back that statement quicker than Kakashi mirroring his opponent’s moves in Naruto.
She reaches out her hand and takes mine, squeezing gently.
“Hayden, you listen closely. The fact that you see the person behind my son’s carefully crafted exterior tells me you are what he needs.
Just be patient with him, Hayden.” She looks off in the distance before turning back to me.
“I also trust his judgment in choosing you. Regardless of when—or if,” she winks, “this marriage ends, you will always have a mother in me. I know you don’t have parents of your own, but I will gladly be a stand-in mom for you. ”
Now it’s my turn to cry. “Thank you,” I choke out. “But how did you know about my past?”
“What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t run a background check on the woman marrying my very important son?” The gleam in her eyes says she may be joking, but I don’t think she is.
“Right,” I say, drawing the word out. I lean back in the chair, and Ruth lets go of my hand. “Anything I can share that you don’t already know?” I smirk, and she matches my expression with humor in her eyes. I think we will get along just fine, even if it’s temporary.
“Let’s start with your favorite color. It should be the color of your wedding.”
I grin, thinking of the one color that Darcy would loathe having as his wedding color. “Yellow. Bright, sunshiny yellow.”
How am I going to pack this place up by myself in two days?
I shouldn’t have procrastinated this inevitable task over the past week.
It’s Wednesday, the one day a week I actually get out of the office on time due to Darcy’s out-of-town travels, and I have to have my things ready to go by Friday evening before the rehearsal.
Dirty dishes still sit in the sink, the trash overflows, and nothing is in its assigned spot.
In lieu of actually cleaning the apartment, I hunt for boxes to pack my things in.
Luckily, I don’t throw out boxes from my online shopping and have plenty of cardboard to stuff kitchen appliances, clothes, and bathroom necessities in.
Though, come to think of it, will I need kitchen appliances?
Darcy’s place is massive. He is bound to have everything I could possibly need.
Also, he has a kitchen staff who does the cooking for him.
Heck. Yeah.
That reason alone is enough to move in with him.
I hardly cooked for myself anyway, but now I will have access to full yummy meals I don’t have to prepare.
Part of me cringes at the excitement I experience knowing I will have a kitchen staff prepare meals for me, but then again, it’s natural to be happy over such a thing when you have been on your own for so long.
I’m definitely not one of those women who will hold onto her pride when it comes to food. Other things, sure. Food? No way.
My phone rings with the special ringtone set just for Darcy: “Love Yourself” by Justin Bieber.
“Yes, Mr. Marshall?”
He takes a breath. “I just spoke with Deborah, your landlady. She says you are being evicted.”
The phone slips from my hand and my heart rate picks up. My first thought is that I could sue Deborah for giving out my personal information to him, but then again, what good will that do?
My second thought is more of an encompassing feeling—embarrassment. I fought so hard to make Darcy believe that I would be keeping this apartment the other day, and now he knows the truth.
I bend down and pick up the phone, and then I do what I do best: ramble.
“Sorry, I dropped the phone. Yeah, someone bought the complex out and I have to leave. But it’s kind of perfect, you know? Because I am moving in with you and stuff. I definitely had options of places to stay, and I’m still considering renting a new space so that I can—”