I shuddered out a breath as I thought of how Easton woke up smiling. Before he even opened his eyes, the sides of his mouth would defiantly turn up, challenging the world to wipe it off his face. I wanted that in my life every day.

I ran a hand over my eyes before I answered, bracing myself for what needed to be said. “I think I love him.”

My mom sighed at my revelation and when she spoke I could hear the smile in her voice. “Then you should try to find common ground, Patrice. If he loves you, that is worth fighting for. We have travelled such a long road since that day we left Port-au-Prince. Sometimes I can’t believe we’ve come so far.” The wonder in her voice, made my throat close up. “My strong and brilliant son. You make me so proud, Patrice, my chest cannot take it.” Her accent thickened the more emotional she got and I knew tears were not far behind.

“I failed you—”

“No, Manman,” I protested.

“No, I did. When you told me about yourself, I thought of my own fears and not of yours. I was so worried about the world that I didn’t take care of your heart first. But I don’t ever want you to think that you don’t deserve to fall in love, to be cherished. Let yourself at least try.”

I didn’t know how much I needed to hear those words from my mother until she said them, and the emotion in her voice made me think she’d needed to say them too. “Okay. I will,” I said, wanting to believe I could.

After we ended the call I sat there thinking about my mother’s words, how she urged me to give what I had with Easton a try. I looked at my messages again and saw Easton had left one for me.

See you at home.

I could either walk away from that promise or for the first time ever, let my heart override my head.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Patrice

“You sure you don’t want a glass of prosecco with your slice, P?” Nesto asked as I took a second piece of the passion fruit silk pie thing he’d made for dessert.

I shook my head as I licked some of the crust and delicious filling off my finger. “Nah, man. I’m driving.”

He shook his head like I was the most stubborn motherfucker on earth. “Man, you gotta chill,” he teased and turned to Easton, an eyebrow raised and the bottle tipped in the direction of the flute by his place setting.

My boyfriend smirked at me before raising the glass to Nesto. “I’m not nearly as good as Patrice,” he said as he leaned in to kiss my cheek.