Chapter 51 #2
Once I sit back down and set my half-empty cup on the table next to me, I reach for one of the final boxes.
The tag on it says it’s from my mom, and I offer her a smile before ripping open the pristine gold wrapping paper.
I pull off the top of the box to find an envelope nestled in white tissue paper with a plaid headband with a bow underneath it.
“The real gift is in the envelope,” my mother says as she holds up her phone.
I nod, lifting the envelope and opening it carefully. I don’t want to think the worst, but my hands are trembling. There’s no saying what this could be. When I pull the stiff paper from the envelope, I open it to read a very properly written letter.
Scanning the words twice, my heart sinks farther into my chest with each beat. She didn’t.
“What is this?” My voice shakes, and I look at her.
Fletcher takes the letter from my shaking hand, reading it.
“Guaranteed admission into the top private school in the country.” She beams. “And the best part is, it’s only thirty miles from her grandparents.”
“Right,” I mutter.
Fletcher takes the box and sets the paper in it. I don’t want to get into this right now, but my mom continues speaking.
“It’s perfect. The admissions director was all too happy to guarantee a spot for her once she heard that Fletcher is her father—well, not technically, but what’s a little white lie?
” She chuckles, waving her hand dismissively.
“Fletcher is more than able to foot the bill, and it’s the perfect school for the daughter of an NHL player.
I mean, just think of how much she will learn! ”
I don’t realize I’m pinching my skin through my dress until Fletcher places his hand over mine, stopping me.
“We’ll have to discuss this later, Sandra.” His voice is colder than I’ve ever heard. “Thank you.”
My mom beams, clearly not seeing my anger, sadness, or distress. Dottie and I lock eyes, and she offers me a sad smile.
“There’s one more, sweetie,” Dottie says, gesturing to the final present at my feet, wrapped in highland cow wrapping paper.
Based on the paper, I know it’s from her, and my heart thumps back to life.
Fletcher hands me the gift, and I rip open the paper, a little sad to be destroying the adorable print. I open the box to see red tissue paper lining the cardboard, and underneath, a beautiful white blanket with little red and black ladybugs stitched into the fabric.
“Oh, Dottie,” I breathe, pulling the blanket out and holding it to my chest. “Did you make this?”
I run my fingers over the carefully stitched design as I hold back tears.
“I did,” Dottie confirms, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Each of my grandbabies have gotten one from me. It felt only right that hers be ladybugs.”
Nodding, I swipe a tear from my cheek. “Thank you. It’s absolutely beautiful.”
I look to my right at Fletcher, who’s wiping a tear. “Thanks, Mom.” He stands and takes her in a long hug, where she rubs and pats his back as she whispers in his ear.
My fingers don’t stop running over the fabric of the blanket, my heart soaring with the love I can feel in every single stitch.
In the bottom corner, she’s sewn on a small patch that has the words, ‘From your grandma, with love’ stitched into it.
I stand and make my way over to her, hugging her tightly when she and Fletcher finally break apart.
“Thank you.” I cry into her neck, still clutching the blanket between us.
“I’m so happy you love it,” Dottie replies, her voice wobbling.
“I love it so much. She’ll love it, too.”
Her arms tighten around me as she rubs my back. When I finally pull away, I step aside and realize I should probably hug my mother, too, even though I’m unsure of how to feel about the gift she gave us—if it could be considered that.
I step over to my mother, and she opens her arms for a hug. “Thanks.”
I’m not sure I mean it, and it’s not really what I want to say.
“It’s going to be such a good choice for her future,” Mom says.
“Hmm.” I pull away, turning to the others. “Thank you so much everyone for coming, and for the amazing gifts. I can’t even express how much they all mean to us.”
Slowly, people filter out and say their goodbyes as we clean up the discarded wrapping paper and organize the items into boxes. The guys all start taking trips out to Fletcher’s SUV, and my mom pulls me aside again.
“Well, what did you think of the gift?” she asks. “It’s going to be so wonderful. Think of her future.”
I swallow harshly. “I don’t know. We need to talk about it—”
“What is there to talk about? There should be no question. You went to a nice school, but with Fletcher’s money, your daughter could go to the best of the best.”
“I don’t care if she goes to the best school,” I snap. “I don’t want my daughter living across the country from me for nine months of the year.”
“Well, she’d have us. She’d be fine.”
“Right,” I scoff. “I appreciate the gift, but I don’t think private boarding school is the right choice for her.”
“She’s not even born yet. How could you know?” Mom asks in a scathing tone.
“I just know,” I yell. “She’s my daughter.
I don’t want her going to a boarding school.
I want to raise her, be there when she gets off the bus every day, show me what project she made, and tell me what she learned that day.
I don’t want to watch my daughter be raised by teachers across the country and see her grow up through a phone. ”
She raises her eyebrows, and when I feel a hand wrap around my wrist, I relax.
“Maybe we should talk about this another time,” Fletcher whispers.
“No need.” She grabs her purse, her eyes still wide. “I see that my kindness and effort in making pathways for my granddaughter that my own daughter didn’t take are unappreciated. I’ll go.”
I lean into Fletcher’s arms as they wrap around me. I don’t have the energy to stop her or make things right. I can’t do it. If she doesn’t understand why I don’t want to raise my daughter that way now, I’m not sure she ever will.
My mother scrambles out without a second glance or another word, and I sink into Fletcher, resting my head on his chest as he rubs my back.
He kisses my hair. “I’m proud of you.”
“Why?” I choke out a laugh between tears.
“You stood up to her, even if it was hard.”
“It didn’t feel like it. She just doesn’t listen or get it.”
“She doesn’t. But there’s only so much we can do.”
Nodding into his chest, I take a deep breath. “Thanks.”
“You’re amazing, Lydi. I know that was hard.”
Another hand joins Fletcher’s on my back. “How are you doing?”
I recognize the voice as Zoey’s.
Turning from Fletcher’s arms, I fall into hers, accepting another long hug. “Fine, I guess. Sorry everyone had to see that.”
“Hey. We don’t care. We’re here for you.” Under her breath, she says, “It really was a shitty gift.”
A laugh bursts from my lips. “It really was.”
The rest of our friends make their way over, pulling us into a big group hug.
“I hate to be the one to say it,” Calvin says, fully breaking the tension, “but Lydia, your mom is kind of a bitch.”
We all laugh, and I’m reminded that family isn’t always blood. It’s the people who are there for you every step of the way, cheering you on, and picking you up when you fall, no matter how messy it gets.