“Oh.” Seb furrowed his brow. It simply hadn’t occurred to him. “You’ve been handing back the reins to me because you...trust me.”

“Obviously I do. You’re a good father. Don’t make me hit you over the head with it.”

He blinked at her. “But you’ve never liked me.” Maybe it was a stupid thing to say, but it was a piece of evidence he’d clung to for years. It had allowed Muriel’s disappointment in him to keep from sinking in too deeply. All the cutting comments and sideways glances, all the insinuations that he was incompetent, he’d been able to ignore to a certain extent, because she’d never liked him. There wasn’t even the chance of being good enough. It was just a personality thing.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” She filled a tureen with ice water to set on the table for dinner. He knew she’d fill a small pitcher next, with milk for Matty. And last would be the little carafe of red wine that she’d put out but frown when anyone partook. “I like you just fine. Now.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her candor. “But before...” he prompted.

She just pursed her lips.

“Oh, come on, Muriel. We’re this far in. Might as well go the whole way.”

“Fine. Yes, before, I didn’t like you. You got my daughter pregnant after a few months of knowing her, and you were an absent father.”

She let that little gem sit between them, blooming noxiously like a plume of bloodred ink in the ocean.

“But I would have to be intentionally blind to ignore all the ways you’ve grown. Pushed yourself. And at great emotional cost. I used to think you were a lazy man. And maybe you were. But you’re not anymore.” She sniffed, patted her perfect hair, and finally, finally made eye contact with him. “I don’t hold grudges. It’s immature. And you’ve proven yourself just fine.”

Matty banged through the back door, smashing through the moment and demanding Seb’s full attention while he laid out the three different types of autumn leaves he’d found in the backyard with Grandpa Sullivan. And then dinner was on the table and then it was bedtime for Matty, almost immediately followed by bedtime for the Sullivans.

Just a few short hours after that mega-bomb conversation with his mother-in-law, Seb sat alone in his workshop, all the lights clicked on. He leaned back on two legs of his folding chair and clicked open his phone, going immediately to his texts. There were two new messages from the women he’d had to cancel on last week. He’d made the dates impulsively. They were both his age. Now they both wanted to reschedule. He clicked his phone closed and tossed it onto one of his workbenches.

He didn’t need to text right now. Texting was another man’s game. Strangely, it was with Muriel’s words in his mind that Sebastian rose, selecting one raw slab of wood from his shelves and then another and another. He was going to do what he did best.