Chapter 24
Jasmine
The drive to Long Island takes an hour and ten minutes on a Sunday morning with light traffic.
I spend the entire drive rehearsing what I'm going to say.
None of the rehearsals sound right. There is no right way to tell your mother that you've been secretly dating the man whose family broke your heart.
The boutique opens at eleven. I pull into the parking lot at ten-fifty-five. Mom's car is already here. Through the window, I see her moving between the racks, adjusting hangers, preparing for the day. She's in a burgundy wrap dress with gold earrings. She looks beautiful.
I get out and walk through the door.
The bell chimes. Mom looks up from behind the counter and smiles. “Baby! What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“I needed to talk to you about something.”
Her smile fades. She puts down the blouse she was folding and takes off her reading glasses.
“Sit down,” she says.
There's a small settee near the fitting rooms where customers wait. I sit. Mom pulls up the stool from behind the counter and sits across from me, worry creased on her face.
“Mom, I need to tell you something and I need you to let me finish before you respond.”
“Okay.”
“I'm seeing someone. I've been seeing him for a while. It's serious.”
She nods slowly. Her face is still. “Okay, that’s nice. Who is it?”
I take a breath. “Logan.”
The silence that follows amplifies other sounds. The clock on the wall, the heating system, the blood rushing through my ears.
“How long?” Mom asks in a guarded voice.
“A couple of months.”
She takes off her reading glasses. “You've been seeing Logan Shaw for months, and you didn't tell me?”
“I wasn't ready to tell you. I knew how you'd react, and I needed time to figure out what we were before I brought you into it.”
“Before you brought me into it.” She repeats my words back to me, and each one is a stone. “I'm your mother, Jasmine. I'm not someone you bring into things when it's convenient. I'm the person who held you when that boy left you in pieces.”
“I know.”
“And now you're telling me you went back to him. After what that family did to you. After what that woman said to you.” She stands up from the stool, walks to the counter, and looks at the wall. “Those Shaws think they’re too good for you, and you went back.”
“It's different this time.”
“How? How is it different, Jasmine? He's the same man, and his parents are the same people. That woman is still his mother.”
“Logan is not his parents, and he’s not the boy who left me. He's a grown man who has spent the last ten years regretting what he did.”
“He told you that?”
“He did and I believe him.”
Mom turns around. “Do you know what it was like for me watching you fall apart?
I raised you alone, Jasmine. I didn't have a husband or a boyfriend or a mother of my own to help me. It was just me. And when that boy left, and his mother made you feel like garbage, I was the one who picked up the pieces.”
“I know. And you were right. Everything you told me was right. But being right about what happened ten years ago doesn't mean you're right about what's happening now.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
“I am a lawyer.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Is he good to you?”
“He's good to me, Mom. He's kind, patient, and he pays attention, and he remembers things about me that I've forgotten about myself.”
“Do his parents know about you two?”
“Not yet, but we’ll tell them tonight. We’re going to their house for dinner.”
“Tonight.” She shakes her head. “Baby, you know what's going to happen.”
“I know what might happen. I also know that Logan is not going to let his mother treat me the way she did ten years ago.”
“You sure about that?”
“I'm sure.”
She looks at me for a long time. Her jaw is tight, and her eyes are still shining. She is my mother and a lioness. Every instinct she has is telling her to grab me and lock me in the back room of this boutique and never let a Shaw near me again.
“If that woman hurts you again,” Mom says with a harsh expression on her face, “I'm driving to her house myself. And I won't be smiling.”
“Does that mean you're okay with this?”
“It means I love you and trust you even when I think you're making a mistake.” She opens her arms. “Come here.”
I stand up and walk into her hug. She holds me tight, her arms strong around my shoulders, her chin on the top of my head. She smells like lavender, and the perfume she's worn since I was a little girl.
“He better treat you right,” she says into my hair.
“He does.”
“And he better come see me. Soon. I have things to say to that boy.”
“He will. I promise.”
She pulls back and holds me at arm's length. “You look beautiful, baby. Whatever happens tonight, you walk into that house with your head up. You are Lorraine Bennett's daughter, and no woman on this earth gets to make you feel small.”
I nod. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too. Now go. You've got a long drive, and I've got a shop to open.”
She kisses my cheek and hugs me tightly again. This is what love is. Worrying that someone you love is making a mistake, but stepping aside because their happiness matters more than being right.
And to know that my mother is willing to bend that philosophy for me, because I asked her to? That brings tears to my eyes. She doesn't approve, but she's letting me go and trusting me to find my way.
I walk to my car and sit behind the wheel to call Logan.
“How'd it go?” he asks on the first ring.
“She's not happy, but she didn't tell me to leave you.”
Logan exhales loudly. “That's something.”
“She said you need to come see her soon. She has things to say to you.”
He chuckles. “I'd expect nothing less from Lorraine.”
“She also said if your mother hurts me again, she's going to show up at her house.”
“I believe her.”
I start the car and pull out of the parking lot. The Long Island Expressway stretches ahead of me. In three hours, I'll be driving this same road in the opposite direction, heading to the Shaw house for Sunday dinner.
“I'll pick you up at four,” Logan says.
“I'll be ready.”
“Jasmine.”
“Yeah?”
“I'm proud of you. What you just did took guts.”
“It was the scariest conversation of my life. And I've cross-examined hostile witnesses.”
He laughs. “See you at four. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I hang up and drive. The expressway is quiet on a Sunday morning. Long Island falls away behind me, and Manhattan rises ahead. Cat Shaw pops into my mind, but now, I’m not scared shitless. I’m Lorraine Bennett’s daughter.
I turn up the radio and drive.
Back at my apartment, I shower and take some time picking out my dress. I need to look like a woman who belongs at any table in any room, including the Shaw family dining room.
I choose tailored black pants, with a cream silk blouse and a fitted blazer. For jewelry, I pick the thin chain that that Mom gave me when I passed the bar. The perfume goes on last.
I leave my hair down in loose waves. And full makeup. Not overdone. Just enough to make Cat Shaw look at me and see a woman, not the eighteen-year-old she dismissed from her kitchen.
The group chat is going after I told the girls that I’m headed to Long Island for dinner with the Shaws.
Harper: How are you feeling?
Avery: We're all here if you need us.
Natalie: Deep breaths. You've got this.
Olivia: You are a queen. Remember that.
I type back: Heading into the lion's den. Wish me luck.
Harper: You don't need luck. You're Jasmine Bennett.
I put my phone in my bag and check the mirror one last time. I look good and strong. I look like a woman my mother would be proud of.
The buzzer rings.
“I'm downstairs,” Logan says through the intercom.
“Coming.”
I grab my coat, lock my apartment, and take the elevator down. Logan’s car is idling at the curb, and he gets out when he sees me and opens the passenger door.
He's freshly shaved, with his hair is pushed back, and he's so hot.
“You look incredible,” he says before kissing my cheek.
“I look like I'm going to court. You look gorgeous.”
“You kind of are,” he says with a laugh that relaxes me. I like that he’s not taking this so seriously, like a matter of life or death, or something that will determine the future of our relationships.
I get in the car. Logan closes the door, walks around, and slides into the driver's seat. He puts the car in gear and pulls into traffic heading toward the expressway. My third trip to Long Island today.
We drive in silence for a few minutes. The city falls away, and the highway opens up ahead of us. His hand finds my knee.
“Whatever happens tonight,” he says, “I'm on your side. Not my mother's side. Not my father's side. Yours.”
“I know.”
“If she says anything, I'm shutting it down.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Jasmine. This isn't ten years ago. I'm not that kid anymore.”
I put my hand on top of his. “I believe you.”
We drive east. The sun is setting behind us. The sky ahead is pale gray and darkening at the edges. Long Island stretches out flat and familiar on either side of the highway.
Logan turns onto Maple Street. The trees are bare, and the houses are lit up for the evening. The Shaw house is at the end of the block.
There are two cars in the driveway. Logan parks at the curb and turns off the engine. Neither of us moves.
“Ready?” he asks.
I look at the house. The same front door I walked through a hundred times when I was sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen years old. The same windows. The same porch where Logan kissed me after our first date before driving me home.
The same house where Cat Shaw told me I wasn't enough.
I straighten my blazer and check my lipstick in the visor mirror. I close the mirror and look at Logan.
“Ready.”