Christmas Wishes Part 3. Diana Palmer
He runs a hand over his face. “It wasn’t like that, Lil. I was going to set up the shop, and just see.”
“See what?”
He groans. “See if it made any money. If it did, I was going to hire someone to run it, and I’d go between here and New Orleans.”
I want to cup my face and cry. “But you said when I first met you…”
He pulls me into a hug, but I push him away. “Lil.”
“No, Damon. You told me you moved here so it’d be a safe place for Charlie to grow up. That you’d had enough of big cities. Now your mother is accusing me of taking you away from your child too. Am I? Do you want to move back to New Orleans?”
CeeCee’s face is pure sadness. She’s wringing the tea towel so hard that she’s in danger of shredding it.
“Sometimes I think it’d be easier, but—”
I cut Damon off. “Then you should go, if you really don’t want to be here.”
“Lil, it’s not like…”
Without another glance, I stalk off to the small office out back. Suddenly, it feels as though I don’t know Damon at all. He lied to me when we first met, and this revelation shocks me to the core. It makes me wonder what else I don’t know about him.
And I’m certain Olivia is happy she’s finally made a wedge between us. I hear CeeCee mumble to Damon, and the jingle of the bell as they leave. Sadness overwhelms me that Damon wouldn’t even hear me out when it came to explaining about his mother.
CeeCee finds me slumped in the chair, crying. “Lil, I think in the heat of the moment there was a lot said there that ain’t quite right. You didn’t stop to let Damon explain.”
“Cee, he wasn’t prepared to hear about how his mother is intent on wrecking our marriage before it’s even started. I haven’t seen him like that before…he wouldn’t even take one second to consider what I said.”
CeeCee tuts. “What would you do, Lil? If Damon sprung that on you about your mamma? Would you automatically assume he was right? Or would you think he was talking crazy?”
“It’s not the same, Cee.”
“Well, o’ course it is! There’s no way he’s going to think his sweet-as-pie mother would stoop so low. Why would he? She’s always laughing, and dishing out compliments, trying to help out. You’re going to have to sort this out, with both of them.”
I shake my head. “I’m the innocent one here, Cee.”
“So?”
“What do you mean so? So why should I?”
“Because how else is Damon going to find out what you’re saying is true?”
I huff. “Right now, I don’t want to even look at him.”
“Lil, there’s four days until your wedding…just remember the fact you love that man, nothing else matters.”
I swallow back any more conversation, knowing CeeCee’ll just keep on telling me to fix it. I don’t know if it’s fixable. Damon was never going to stay here. And he thinks sometimes it’d be easier to move back to New Orleans. And there’s Charlie. His gorgeous, bubbly daughter, who, by right, should have her daddy close by. Not to mention his conniving mother, who he only sees as lovely. Suddenly the thought of getting married doesn’t seem so merry.
I lock up the café. The icy wind blows my hair back as I dash to the truck. After spending the afternoon mulling it over, I know I have to talk to Damon, and sort everything out. My heart aches just thinking of him. I hate fighting, and I want to make it better. But there’s no way I’m kowtowing when it comes to his mother.
Arriving home, I see the house is lit up. I sigh, relieved — for a moment I thought maybe he might have stayed elsewhere.
I walk inside. Damon’s on the sofa in the front room.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
“Are we going to fix this?” He pats the cushion next to him.
I take my parka off and throw it on the end of the sofa. “I hope so.”
“Lil, why would you think my mother would do something like that? You make her sound like some kind of monster.”
I take my time replying, remembering CeeCee’s stern warning about if our roles were reversed. “Since that first night in the café, she’s been dishing out all these little comments that make me question everything. Bessie told me your mother walked in and started giving her instructions about my dress, Damon! You can go and ask her yourself! And she wanted to move the venue from day one, and then suddenly someone cancels Guillaume, from an email account in my name, that isn’t actually my account? She wanted to make sure you were happy here. She said that to me. I feel like a fool, Damon. At first I doubted myself, sure I was reading too much into it, but now I am certain it’s her. And then there’s the doubt about you. Why did you say all those things to me when we first met if they weren’t true?” As hard as it is to have this conversation, I feel better laying my cards on the table. I have to know Damon will support me now and forever. And I need to know where I stand.
“Lil, I had planned on moving here, but, like I said, I was going to go back and forth, if it was financially viable. But then I met you. We fell in love, and I had no intention of leaving after that. When I said I loved it here, and I wanted Charlie to have the experience of growing up somewhere safe, a town where people look out for one another, I meant it. I’d hoped that once she was old enough she might like to move here too. I don’t want to move back to New Orleans, but sometimes, when we’re fussing over sales figures, or worrying about the catering income, I yearn for a shop that makes a decent living because it’s in a busy town. And that’s all I meant by it.”
I close my eyes, partly mollified by his answer, until I remember his mother, and her attempts to destroy the wedding. And maybe our relationship too. “Your mother managed to plant all these seeds of doubt. And you don’t trust me. You believe your mother. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get over that.”
“I do trust you, Lil. But saying my mother is responsible for cancelling the venue…it’s just not possible.”
I resist the urge to scream in frustration. “Not just that, the other stuff too.”
He sighs. “She’s says she didn’t do it, Lil. I know my mother — she’s not like that.”
“Well, who else would do it?”
“Let’s just leave it for now.”
Four days. And everything is up in the air. I’m angry at Damon. How can we just leave it? His mother for reasons unknown is set on ruining us and he doesn’t even care. “I’m going to lie down. I’m not feeling great.”
“Lil…”
I wake during the night and reach for Damon. He turns to face me, and in the dark room he says softly, “I’m sorry, Lil.”
Half groggy, I say, “For which part?”
“For all of it. I’ve been awake all night worrying about it.”
His skin is prickled with cold. I pull the quilt up, and thread my legs through his. “So what does that mean?”
“I guess…I need to really ask my mother if she had something to do with it all. It’s not that I don’t believe you — it’s just that I can’t see her doing any of that. I mean, what reason would she have?”
I run a hand along