My mother stopped in the long green hallway, surrounded by pictures of my and Robbie’s lives, images of the past that she drew strength from. I could see a masculine shadow moving outside on the steps, but my mother put herself right in front of me, filling my world. I was unable to look away from the old regret in her eyes.

“That is exactly why you need to go out with him,” she said, her grip on my shoulder tightening to keep me silent. “Prep your spells later. You’re strung out to the snapping point, sweetheart. You need to do something different to give your mind a rest, and Marshal is a good man. He’s not going to break your heart or take advantage of you. Just…go do something with him. Anything.” Her mouth quirked. “Well, maybe not anything.”

“Mom…,” I protested, but she stepped quickly to the door and opened it. Marshal was waiting, and he took us both in, his attention going back and forth, comparing us as we stood side-by-side. Flustered, I set the pie on the top of the hall bookcase and wiped my hands on my jeans. I didn’t think it was the pie that had his eyebrows so high. My mother and I looked a lot alike, apart from our hair and how we dressed.

“Hi, Mrs. Morgan,” he said, smiling, and then said to me, “Rachel.”

My mom smiled like the Mona Lisa, and I rolled my eyes, seeing his big-ass SUV at the curb. “Hi,” I said dryly. “I hear you met my mom already.”

“Marshal and I looked at your baby pictures while you were sleeping,” she said, then stepped back. “Come on in. We’re eating pie.”

Marshal glanced at the half-eaten slice above our heads and smiled. Cracking his neck, he stepped in just far enough to shut the door. “Thanks, Mrs. Morgan, but if I’m going to get Rachel back to the church before sunset, we really need to go now.”

“He’s right,” I said, not wanting to endure an hour of humiliation at my mother’s hand. Besides, the sooner we left, the sooner I could apologize for my mom and he could make his escape. I wasn’t going on a date when Ivy was home thinking she screwed up again. She hadn’t. We had ended the entire freaking mess in success before Jenks screwed it up. But that didn’t mean I was going to let her break my skin again. I had to stop saying a decision was good just because it made me feel better. But being good, really good, really sucked.

“Oh!” my mom chirped. “Your coat. I think you left your bag in the kitchen, too.”