19. Laurie
Chapter nineteen
Laurie
The chipped mug shouldn't make me cry.
It's just a mug. White ceramic with a faded Outlaws logo, probably a giveaway from some promotional game years ago. I find it wrapped in newspaper at the bottom of a kitchen box.
My new kitchen has clean counters, working appliances, and no broken hand mixers hiding in the corner. I stand there and burst into tears over a piece of free merchandise.
"Mom?"
Bethany appears in the doorway, hair tied back, dirty smudges on her jeans from assembling furniture. She takes one look at my face and crosses the kitchen.
"It's stupid," I manage. "It's just a mug."
"It's not the mug."
She takes it from my hands. Sets it gently on the counter. Pulls me into a hug that feels like roles reversing. My daughter became the steady one while I fell apart.
"Grant was wrong," she says quietly. "He should have asked you before he just did things."
I nod against her shoulder.
"But Mom. You might also be wrong."
I pull back. "What?"
Bethany's expression is calm. Matter-of-fact. The same look she gets when she's solved a logistical puzzle no one else saw coming.
"You think accepting love means surrendering dignity. But what if it just means letting someone stand beside you instead of always standing alone?"
"Bethany—"
"I love you, but watching you choose fear is breaking my heart a little."
She squeezes my hand.
"Think about it. Please."
Then she leaves me standing in the kitchen with the stupid chipped mug and the terrifying possibility that my daughter is right.
***
I roll into the coffee shop five minutes late. Marianne sits at our usual corner table, already halfway through a latte, scrolling through her phone.
She sees me approach and immediately sets the phone down.
"Laurie."
I slide into the chair across from her. "Before you say anything—"
"I'm not saying anything."
"Marianne."
She smiles. Warm, knowing, entirely too perceptive. "I'm here to drink coffee and listen to my best friend. That's all."
The barista brings my order. I wrap both hands around the mug and stare into the steam.
"I love him."
The words come out quiet. Raw.
Marianne doesn't react with surprise or triumph. She just nods.
"I know."
"He hurt me."
"He did."
I look up. "So why do I still want to go back?"
Marianne leans forward. Her voice stays gentle, but her eyes hold mine.
"Laurie." Marianne reaches across the table. Takes my hand. "Grant is my brother. I love him. I also know he's spent his entire adult life equating vulnerability with failure. You terrify him because you make him feel things he can't strategize away."
"That's not fair to me."
"No. It's not. And if you walk away, I'll support you. But I need to know—are you walking away because Grant proved he doesn't deserve your trust? Or because you're afraid that accepting love means losing yourself?"
And suddenly Bethany’s words settle into place beside Marianne’s.
I left before I gave him a chance.
I left before I admitted that I was not only protecting my dignity.
I was protecting my fear.
My phone buzzes.
I glance down and see an email notification. Official court header. Subject line: Lodge Review Hearing.
Time. Location. Date.
My chest tightens. The lodge is still moving forward without me.
Grant is still fighting for it.
"Laurie?"
I stare at the screen, but what I see is not the hearing information.
I see Grant’s hand at my back during the hockey game.
His laugh at the rink.
How he steadied me on the ice.
The way he looked at Lestor Lodge, not like it was a trophy or a line item, but like it was something he had failed and still wanted to save.
I think about the kiss that had no audience.
"So what are you thinking?"
I take a breath.
“I’m thinking,” I say slowly, “that maybe showing up doesn’t have to mean surrendering.”
Her smile is small. Hopeful. “No. It doesn’t.”