It Must Have Been the Mistletoe(67)

“I think I’m in…”

She couldn’t get the words out.

“In trouble?” her mom offered hesitantly.

Rita shook her head.

Amanda sat on the arm of the sofa to get a better look at her daughter’s face in the flashing colors of the tree lights. A quick study, a widening of her own eyes, then she puffed out a breath.

“In…love?”

A hot sting burned Rita’s eyelids. She bit her lip to keep from letting the burn turn to actual tears.

“It sucks,” she declared.

“Oh, sweetie.” The wealth of love, understanding and empathy in those simple words was too much for Rita. Heated misery poured down her cheeks as her mother enfolded her in soft arms, the familiar scent of Chanel as comforting as the hug.

“Who is he?” Amanda asked as the crying jag wore down.

Rita winced. For an entire second, she debated not telling. After all, she and Tyler were through. But she’d never been able to lie to her mom. Sidestep? Yes. Direct lie? Never.

“Tyler Ramsey,” she mumbled against her mom’s shoulder.

Silence. Then, “Well, your daddy’s got a strong heart. He’ll bounce back from the shock fast enough.”

Rita gasped, making her mother laugh and give her another hug.

“Don’t worry, sweetie.”

In spurts and jags, Rita filled her mom in on the ride home, the hopes she’d let herself have, then the heartbreak she’d felt when she’d realized that Tyler could never see past the wild side of her enough to really care.

Anger drying her tears, she punched the pillow she’d been hugging. “It was all some stupid game to him. A setup to make sure I didn’t get in the way of his family holiday and give his brother ideas again.”

“Now that doesn’t sound right.” At Rita’s look, Amanda shrugged. “I’m not saying he didn’t set out to cause a ruckus. That sounds like Tyler. That boy never engages his brain before he jumps into gear. But why would he give you a ride home if he was that malicious, Rita Mae? Maybe he was worried about his brother, but that’s habit. Tyler had to step into the role of head of that family awfully young and he takes the job seriously.”

Frowning, Rita threaded her fingers through the fringe on the pillow. “I thought you didn’t like him. You and Dad were so mad at him for what he did to Alison.”

“Well, you have to admit, Alison had a little hand in what happened, too,” Amanda said with a laugh. “She just had to get her revenge. In addition to being smart, talented and clever, all my girls know how to take care of themselves.”

All. That included her. Rita’s heart melted. That simple statement, not even directed at her, made her realize that maybe some of her freaking out that her parents didn’t have faith in her wasn’t justified.

“Was he out of line with you, Rita Mae?”

“No,” Rita said immediately. “Tyler was never disrespectful. He acted like I was this combination of Bettie Page, Madonna and that really smart money chick who has a show on TV. He actually thinks more of me than I do of myself.”

“How so?”

Rita leaned back so she could watch her mother’s face as she told her about Tyler’s career suggestions and all the ideas he’d prompted her to come up with. Then, shoulders knotted, she waited.

“And what do you think about this?”

Rita winced, not wanting to commit one way or another until she knew if her mom approved or not.

Amanda arched her brow. Rita sucked in a deep breath, then puffed it out.

“I’ll admit, it’s nothing I ever dreamed of doing. And it’s not fancy or special or one of those great careers you and Dad would be proud to brag about.” Then she added with a shrug, “But I think I’d be good at it, Mom. I think I could make it a success.”

“First and foremost, if it makes you happy, isn’t it a dream career?” Amanda asked. “Darling, the only way you could disappoint us is if you gave up. On your dreams, or on yourself. You’re the only one judging yourself, not us. But I’ll save that lecture for later. When your dad’s here to enjoy it.”

The assurance didn’t wipe away all of Rita’s doubts or confidence issues. But it did make her realize just how much those issues were of her own making. With a watery smile, she wiped away the tears dripping off her chin and wished she’d stop leaking.

Then with a deep breath, she sucked in her courage, gave her mom a quick hug and slid off the couch.

“Where’re you going?” her mom asked.

“I figured out what I want for Christmas,” Rita declared. “Now I just have to go get him.”