Chapter Twenty Eight

September, 2005

Pale autumn morning was streaming through the partly-shut blinds, casting a milky glow over the bedroom. He sulked inwardly at the interruption, feeling a strange mixture of reluctance and eagerness to open his eyes and face the day. It was nice and warm under the covers with Maureen still sleeping by his side. He smiled as he shifted slightly to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her closer. In just a few hours, she would finally be his wife. He felt like laughing. It was so surreal.

He felt her begin to stir and nuzzled the back of her neck. "Wake up," he whispered.

"Stop being such a morning person," she grumbled adorably, her head all but buried in her pillow. "Go back to sleep."

But even if he wanted to, his mind was already too alert, and his body was following suit. He couldn't just lay still. He had to do something, anything. Libby was probably up already. He could start making breakfast. Pleased to be having a plan, he gently extricated himself from Maureen, who as soon as he pulled away, rolled onto her side to face him, sleep still very much present in her hazel eyes.

"Where are you going?"

Chuckling softly, he sat back on the bed and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "In case you haven't noticed, it's morning."

She glanced at the window dismissively, then turned her inquiring gaze back at him, as if the answer didn't satisfy her. He put on his glasses, then grabbed his phone to check the time. It was hardly even seven, but he didn't think she would appreciate knowing that.

"How about I'll start on breakfast, and you make sure you've got everything before you're out to meet your parents?"

"Okay," she said, straightening up until she was sitting cross-legged on the bed. "Just... Why?"

"Why what?" he asked, a little baffled.

"Why am I meeting my parents?"

He blinked, taken aback. "You're not serious, are you?" he asked slowly, trying to figure out if she was messing with him. She held his gaze steadily, and her expression was hollow as if she truly didn't know what he was on about. He knew she'd been under enormous amounts of stress recently, which as a result made her forgetful at home, but surely she wouldn't forget this... would she? "You're meeting your parents at the venue across the river... because we're getting married this afternoon, remember?"

She looked back at him blankly, and he could feel his anxiety begin to set it. She'd better be joking. But what if she wasn't? Maybe he got the date wrong. Worse still, maybe none of this was happening. Maybe it was all in his head, just some long and elaborated dream. They had never met that winter, she'd never proposed, and he wasn't going to marry her after all. It actually would make a whole lot more sense than –

Her soft hand on his cheek put an end to his unraveling. She was kneeling in front of him, her eyes now gleaming naughtily. "Guess I haven't lost my touch after all," she said softly, mischievously.

"You chose the wrong day to mess with me, Maureen Johnson," he told her in a tone he'd considered his most threatening, but the truth was he could barely hold back the relief that surged through him. He would have keeled over if he wasn't sitting down.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist," she said, now breaking into giggles. "You should have seen the look on your face."

"I'm glad you were amused," he said in the most apathetic tone he could muster. Keeping on a straight face was harder than he thought possible, but he persevered. And it seemed to have worked. Her giggles died at once, and a flicker of uncertainty now flashed in her eyes.

"I was only kidding," she said slowly, hesitantly. He stood up and turned his back on her, fighting the urge to burst out laughing himself. He could feel her eyes on his back, as he wandered aimlessly around the bedroom, pretending to be looking for something in agitation. "Mark?" she asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly. There was definitely a hint of panic there.

As he tried to predict her next move, he heard the bedsheets rustle. A second later he heard her behind him, and then she slowly wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her chin into the crook of his neck. "Mark," she said again, sounding genuinely distressed now. "Honestly, I didn't mean it," she pleaded softly. "Please look at me."

Her voice was quivering slightly. She sounded as if she was about to cry. His heart twitched. He only wanted to get back at her; he didn't want her to cry. He knew that by the end of the day, it was more than likely both of them would be in tears, but not so soon; certainly not over this. He turned to face her; her lips were parted as if she'd meant to say his name again. He placed his finger on her lips.

"Two could play this game," he stated, feeling strangely empowered. All those years ago, when he'd warned Joanne of the Tango Maureen, and he'd forgotten the most crucial part – apparently, it did take two to tango.

She stared at him for a second before letting out a sound that was a mix between a chuckle and a sob, and threw her arms around his neck. "Don't you ever do that to me again."

"Likewise."

They just stood there with their arms around one another, before he pulled away just enough so they could press their foreheads together.

"Do you still want to marry me?"

It was a moment before he realized she wasn't asking in jest. "What do you think?" he tucked a strand behind her ear. "But if you've got more tricks up your sleeve you might as well let me know now."

She actually deliberated, which he wasn't expecting. Her cheeks flushed as if she was hiding something. "Actually, I – "

"Mommy?"

"Come in, sweetheart," he said, his eyes still on Maureen, but he knew the moment was gone. If she was up to something, he was bound to find out about it later. He could only hope it wouldn't be something utterly embarrassing.

They ended up making breakfast all three of them together, and he was happy for the chance to fool around for a while before what he knew was going to be an intense day. They already had their marriage license, and the wedding wasn't until late noon, to make the best of their venue, which overlooked the Manhattan skyline and would look spectacular after dark. Soon Arianna would be there to pick up the girls to meet Maureen's parents, and he was to be left behind with Benny.

Libby was lamenting Maureen's upcoming departure to London the following week. A musical she was working on was getting a West End production that spring, and she was asked to drop by and oversee the costume changes the producers had requested. It seemed her business trips had always been ill-timed, but they should consider themselves lucky she had managed to push it back after the wedding.

"I'm worried," he confessed to her a bit later, when Libby left the kitchen to watch TV, as he poured the two of them a second cup of coffee.

"About?"

"We all know what happened the last time you went on a business trip," he pointed out, reaching for her hand across the table. "What if you'll meet another old friend in London and ask him to marry you? Or her. With your track record it could go either way."

She stared at him in shock for a second before shaking her head. "You chose the wrong day to mess with me, Mark Cohen," she fondly echoed his previous words, raising their joined hands to her lips. "Besides," she paused to look over her shoulder, but Libby was lost to her cartoons. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you're coming with me."

He was waiting for the punchline; it didn't come. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My dad wanted to tell you himself today, it was his idea. We've been at it all week. Tammy and Oliver are in on it, both very eager to get rid of you," she winked, but he was still too stuck on the first part to really pay attention to her quip.

"Are you serious?"

"Arianna should really get the credit for making it happen. When I told her my dad had suggested you'd come with me, she set things in motion. She runs a tough negotiation, that girl. She told the producers it wouldn't be right for me to abandon my husband of one week, so they'd better work something out. And indeed they did."

"Honestly, I don't know what to say." He was beyond touched. The fact they all came together to make it happen, somehow without him suspecting anything, was mind-boggling.

"I'll still have to work, a lot, but I'm sure you'll find stuff to do in the meantime. And who knows, maybe you'll walk into a gallery and realize you knew the person who owned it."

"I don't think that works twice in a lifetime, Mo." At least, he hoped not. He'd had everything he'd ever wanted right there in his reach.

When he was left alone once Maureen and Libby left with Arianna, his head was still reeling by the prospect of joining Maureen on her trip to London. Benny was due to arrive soon, and they had a car to pick them up in less than two hours. It was a matter of mere hours now; he could barely wrap his head around it. He knew he should probably start getting dressed, but he needed a moment to get himself together, and so he sat in his study and stared at her postcard, the one he'd taken out of Collins' book and kept after giving the book to Maureen. Grateful that he didn't destroy it like he'd intended, he now looked at her handwriting, musing over the woman that she was and the woman she'd become. He thought of how completely his life had altered since Christmas.

He knew he wouldn't regret it. He would be a fool to do so. He had loved Maureen for so long; he quite possibly never stopped loving her, no matter how hard he tried to at times, especially after she left so abruptly. He was so furious with her back then; it was causing him more damage than loving her ever did. He remembered how Collins had asked him not to give up on her, practically on his deathbed. He was under the influence of so many painkillers at that point, but his words sounded incredibly lucid. When Collins' soul joined those of their deceased friends, he was so consumed by the pain of losing another friend, that he thought he'd never be able to keep his promise. But now, he realized that in a way, he'd always kept it. He'd never given up on Maureen, not really. He'd forgiven her long before she asked to be forgiven.

When Benny arrived some time later, he was half dressed and already panicking. Benny, of course, looked enviously sharp, which only exacerbated his anxiety.

"Oh, great. How can I complete with that?" he asked miserably as soon as he saw his friend on his doorstep.

"What are you on about, you look good! Or good enough. What have you done with the…"

"Come in," he grumbled like a teenager, and heard Benny cackle behind his back. "I swear this suit looked better in the store, and I can't get my hair to look right, and we're going to be late – "

"Mark, breathe! Gee, whose brilliant idea was this to leave you here alone? Everything is fine, you just missed a button on your shirt, see? Come on," said Benny, towing him down the hall into the bedroom. He then fixed everything in about ten minutes, including his hair. When the car arrived (five minutes early, despite his concern) he leaned back, allowing himself a moment to relax and pull himself together.

"Sorry about this. I'm just nervous. I should probably apologize in advance for everything I might say to you today."

"It would be the end of the world when I will take offense by you, Cohen. Besides, it probably would have been worse if you weren't nervous."

The venue was beginning to fill as they pulled in front of it. For the first time he fully appreciated the fact that the wedding wasn't to take place indoors; he embraced the fresh air, gulped it, really. After making sure he was okay, Benny excuse himself and went to call Alison, who should have been on her way with the boys. He greeted Rabbi Feldman who had arrived shortly before he did, hugged Cindy and Tammy absentmindedly and waved at Oliver from a distance. It was really beginning to hit him at the sight of Libby rushing towards him, a vision in icy pink chiffon and tulle, her hair streaming down her back in dark ringlets.

"Look at you! You look so pretty!"

"You look pretty too, Daddy," she giggled, her face flushed with all the attention.

"Is Mommy doing okay?"

"She's nervous," said Richard, looking dashing in his own dark suit. Without his signature tweed jacket, he almost looked like a different person. "We finally got her to stop crying though." He must have looked horrified, because Richard burst into hearty laughter. "I'm just messing with you, she's fine." He tucked a lock of hair behind Libby's ear. "Sweetheart, will you go tell Grandma Mark's here?"

"Okay, Grandpa!"

"Libby, wait." He knelt beside her, taking her in. He looked at her earnestly. "Tell Mommy I'm nervous too." He was painfully aware of Richard watching them, but he didn't take his eyes off her. "Tell her I love her." He touched her cheek fondly; their first encounter at Macy's came to mind. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought it would lead them here. "I love you both."

"I love you," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held back tears with all his might. He pulled away and nodded to Libby, who ran off to find her grandmother.

"Do you want a drink?" asked his future father-in-law. It took him a second to realize this was not a trick question.

"So much," he said. "Probably best if I don't though."

"I'll get you one after." They shared a rueful smile. "Listen, Mark, I know we've said it a dozen times already, but Liz and I are so grateful you found your way back into our family. I wish Maureen has made this choice years ago, but it's better late than never. Asking you to take good care of them would be a waste of words. The way you stood by them during the whole mess with Andy, I don't know many people who would have done it, especially given everything you went through with your friends."

"Not standing by them was never an option. I will until they order me away."

"Well," said Richard, and there was definite tremble to his voice. "Don't tell Liz, but that's the best twenty dollar investment I've ever had."

And although he was beginning to choke up, he burst into laughter at the reminder of the bet.

"Now, about Maureen's business trip next week – "

"I... kind of already know what you're going to say," he admitted sheepishly, feeling bad about stealing Richard's thunder. "Maureen sort of let it slip this morning. Sorry."

"I should have known she wouldn't be able to resist. Ah, well. It just didn't seem right for you to be left behind. It's been tense few months. So we'll have Libby for the week, and you can spend some time on your own to decompress."

"I really appreciate it, Richard. Honestly. I can't imagine what it's taken for all of you to pull it all off so last minute."

"What can I say? I'm a miracle worker," a new voice sounded from behind him. There was Arianna, looking radiant in her ivory dress. After Richard excused himself, she gave him a once over that made him blush, then let out a long whistle. "Que guapo eres! Your friend Benny nailed it!"

"We didn't want to embarrass you in front of your colleagues," he pointed out.

"I can positively say you won't be embarrassing anyone, let alone your future wife, who is also quite possibly a future Tony nominee. But you did not hear this from me." She sighed contentedly, then looked at him thoughtfully. "When she dumped you for another woman, have you ever imagined it would all end up like this?"

He gaped at her in astonishment. "You know about this?"

"Hey, Cohen, are we getting started or what?" Tammy, her timing impeccable as ever.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Elizabeth leading Libby towards the rows of seats in front of the chuppah. He didn't even get a chance to say hello to her, he realized when Benny was suddenly beside him, towing him in that same direction. The seats were beginning to fill. He noticed Alison and the boys, some of his colleagues from Life, his niece and nephews. Their guest list didn't even reach the high fifties, but the cacophony in the air was maddening as if there were hundreds of people there. His gaze flew across the guests; he was hoping to catch Richard's glance, to wordlessly beg him for that drink anyway, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you ready, kiddo?" asked Benny, his eyes gleaming with emotion. Rabbi Feldman was smiling encouragingly from over his shoulder.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied. "Have you got the rings?"

Benny froze. He looked as if he wanted to curse, but couldn't in the presence of the Rabbi. He looked at him sheepishly, guiltily. "I may have left them on my desk at work," he said.

He stared at his old friend, his best man, wide-eyed and flustered. There was this weakness in his knees. He needed to sit down. Between Maureen's prank that morning and Arianna's recent inquiry, this would be one joke too many. "You left the rings where?"

"I had a conference with overseas investors last night and I forgot to stop by and get them this morning. I'm sorry, man."

"Don't tell me you're sorry, Benny, I trusted you with this! I..." His voice trailed off at the familiar cackling sound. Of course. Apparently, this was Torture Mark Day and he was the only one who didn't get the memo. "That's hilarious, Benny."

"Gee, relax, Cohen, will you? They're in my pocket."

"Can we just... get started? So I could finally have a drink? Please?"

Rabbi Feldman seemed amused by their exchange, and his reaction, but she nodded, smiling, and asked the remaining guests to be seated. The musicians, three of Maureen's colleagues, took their places, and silence of anticipation fell on the congregation all at once.

He was standing by himself under the traditional chuppah with only Benny at a safe distance. In order to not make his parents' absence too poignant, Elizabeth was sitting in the front row next to Libby, smiling at him in wordless encouragement as their eyes met. Richard would join them after walking Maureen down the aisle. Despite the circumstances which forced the unusual arrangement, he had to admit he preferred it this way. It felt more intimate to be there just the two of them; as if it wasn't unnerving enough to be stared at by everyone in front of him. The music was comforting though – an instrumental version of one of the last songs Rogers had written, found among the many remnants of his past.

There was a collective gasp of awe, and everyone turned as one at the sight of Maureen as she slowly approached, leaning against her father's arm. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes at the sight of her. If he was allowed just one word to describe it, breathtaking would definitely be it, by far. Her dress wrapped around her like the softest cloud. Her hair was pulled back in a loose yet elaborated braid which tied into a bun at the nape of her neck. Wisps of hair danced around her face, framing it beautifully. Trying to conceal his shaky hands, he pressed them against his sides, then remembered the disposable camera he'd hidden in his jacket when Benny's attention was diverted. He took it out instinctively and snapped a picture of her approaching, which elicited a roar of knowing laughter from everyone present, including her. He could almost feel Benny rolling his eyes behind him.

After what felt like forever, they were finally in front of him. Richard tenderly kissed his daughter's cheek before giving him her hand in a motion as ancient as time itself. There was nothing but trust in his eyes as their gazes locked, still echoing their earlier conversation. As Richard made his way to his seat and the music came to a soft close, he laced his fingers with Maureen's, squeezing gently.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi yourself," she whispered back, grinning nervously.

"Well, unless the groom wants to take more pictures," joked Rabbi Feldman, making everyone laugh again.

"The camera, Mark," hissed Benny, and he obediently handed him the device to the sound of everyone's sniggers.

"Good. Let's begin, shall we?"

He thought how embarrassing it would be if anyone was to ask him what was said during the service, because he had no clue. He was acting on autopilot, repeating any blessing that needed repeating, murmuring Amen, sipping the cup of wine when it was handed to him, helping Maureen sip it when requested, but honestly it was all a blur. His hands were still shaking when he turned to take the rings from Benny, who handed them to him with a smirk, which was reminiscent of his earlier prank. He was too distracted to even glare at him.

"Maureen, do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do," she replied softly, without a hint of hesitation. She held his gaze for a split second before slipping the ring onto his finger, letting her hand linger against his before letting go completely.

Rabbi Feldman turned to look at him, smiling encouragingly as if she could still feel his distress. "Mark, do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?"

He had his reply at the ready when something at the end of the aisle suddenly caught his eye. He could feel Maureen's gaze following his, heard her tiny gasp at the sight of the person standing there. At first he thought he'd imagined it, wishful thinking and all that, but Maureen's reaction was proof positive that this was not all in his head. There was certain finality to her position, as if this was as far as she was willing to go, at that point. It seemed pointless to stop everything and hurry after her; she would probably be gone before the reception. But he didn't care. Her being there – how did she even know where to go? – meant that there was still a sliver of hope towards some sort of reconciliation.

Benny cleared his throat discreetly yet menacingly. He snapped out of it, glancing one final time at his mother, before bringing his attention back to Maureen. "I do," he said, slipping the ring onto her finger. When he next glanced towards the end of the aisle, she was no longer there, but it hardly mattered. Maureen gave his hand a little squeeze and nodded as if to reassure him she saw her too.

He looked fretfully at the glass they placed on the floor, wrapped in aluminum foil. You'd better not mess this up, he told himself over and over. Dan told him a while ago that not breaking the glass on the first shot was considered bad luck. Of course, it was highly possible his brother-in-law was simply messing with him, but just in case it was true, he wasn't taking any chances.

"You got this, Mark. You had enough bad luck for a lifetime."

He started, then stared wide-eyed at Collins, standing behind Maureen and wearing a suit similar to Benny's. He shook his head adamantly, dreading the distraction, although the words rang true. He took a deep breath, hoping no one noticed how nervous about this he was, then stomped on the glass with everything he had, holding his breath until he heard the sound of smashing glass. A roar of cheers and Mazel Tovs ensued. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

"I'd say you earned that drink," said Rabbi Feldman, smiling broadly.

"Damn straight," rejoiced Richard from the front row.

"But first, you may kiss the bride."

He'd never experienced such a roller coaster of emotions all at once. It all washed over him like a tidal wave. He could feel tears streaming down his face, somehow mixed with roaring laughter, but it was okay because Maureen's expression reflected the exact same turmoil. He closed the remaining distance between them and their lips met halfway in a tender kiss that sealed the service. Everyone seemed to get to their feet at the same time, but they were still standing holding each another, not taking their eyes from one another, wrapped in their private moment. But before he could tell her how much he loved her, they'd been pulled apart by family and friends eager to offer their love and congratulations.

Dusk was beginning to fall now, Manhattan a glowing jewel in the near distance beneath the apricot sky. Dozens of fairy lights added to the effect. Richard stuffed a drink into his hands, and despite his desperate need for it earlier, he took a tiny sip only, terrified of getting drunk and embarrassing himself even further.

"My little brother is married!" gushed Cindy as she embraced him tightly. "I'm so happy for you, Mark. Truly." A shadow clouded her blissful expression. She hesitated, but then said, "I want to tell you something, about Mom. I've known about it from the get go, but I didn't want to say anything earlier so as to not raise your hopes up, and in hindsight I'm glad I didn't."

"Cindy, you're rambling. What?"

"Just... I really thought she would come around and show up here, that's all. I mean, after..."

"What are you talking about?"

"Maureen wrote to her months ago extending an invitation. I passed on the letter, but we never actually discussed it afterwards, because I didn't want to push my luck with her. Maureen and I didn't tell you because we didn't know what would come of it."

Not for the first time today, he was stunned that something so monumental just slipped right passed him. Now it all made sense. "She was here."

"What?"

"I saw her during the service."

"She's here? Are you sure?" she asked, her eyes flying all over in search of their mother.

"I'm pretty sure she didn't stay. Are you serious? This was your doing?"

"Maureen's. I'm just the messenger. I only wish – "

"I know. But she was here. That's something. "

"That's something," his sister echoed in agreement. She sniffed, then shook her head. "Well, I'll let you – "

She could barely finish her sentence when his colleagues from Life all but carried him away, patting his back and cheering. He meant to flash her an apologetic look, but she had already disappeared into the crowds. His head still reeling, he could barely register the rejoicing around him as both Oliver and Tammy demanded his attention. His mind was still obsessing over what he'd just learned about his mother. He tried to look over his friends' heads, but couldn't spot Maureen anywhere. Eventually he managed to extricate himself from his friends, needing a breath of fresh air in a secluded spot overlooking the river. He got so lost in his head that when something touched the small of his back he literally jumped, his heart in his throat.

"Sorry," said Maureen when he turned to face her, grinning crookedly at him. She handed him her glass of champagne; he took a sip. "Needed a moment?"

He nodded, speechless yet again at the sight of her. In the absence of other distractions, he could now appreciate every tiny detail of her dress. "You look stunning. I can't even."

"You don't look half bad yourself," she replied coyly, straightening the pink handkerchief in his jacket pocket. "Now I can confess I was terrified when you said you could handle getting a suit on your own."

"You should have been. Benny was definitely the right guy at the right time."

"And that lady friend of yours. Annette, was it?"

"You might hate her perfume, but you must admit she knows her stuff." She hummed her affirmation. He took her hand and pressed his lips to her new wedding ring. "I was just talking to Cindy. She told me what you did."

"Oh," she said, as if she wasn't expecting the shift in conversation. Her cheeks flushed. "Are you mad we didn't tell you?"

"Am I mad? Maureen, you got her to come here, and not in order to crush the wedding. I'll never be able to repay you for this."

"You already repaid me a thousand times over," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "I actually can't believe that we're here." She was beginning to tear up again.

"Stop it, I finally got myself to stop crying," he laughed through a fresh flood of tears. "Can I ask you something?" She just nodded, reaching up to wipe his remaining tears with her thumb. "I meant to bring it up a while ago, but the timing never seems right. I was wondering if you… if we…" Why was he speechless all of a sudden? And he thought he was through with the hard part of the day. No wonder she was the one proposing to him.

"Just say it, baby."

"You just did," he muttered under his breath. She stared at him in confusion, her brow furrowing as if trying to determine if he'd lost it. Then something like understanding flashed in her eyes; a slow smile slowly curled on her lips, and his words came in a flood, encouraged by it. "Just something to consider. That is, if you want to. I mean, I think we're ready, but I know your work…"

"But you were so freaked out by the prospect of me being pregnant before."

"Because it seemed so out of the blue then. But now…" He looked straight at her, finally getting his thoughts together. "I think we're ready. I mean, Libby is incredible, and that you did all by yourself, so imagine if we did this together." He had. He couldn't wait. "You did say I was well-versed as for how to get a girl pregnant," he reminded her, feeling his cheeks flush in the process.

"I did say that, yes," she agreed, her expression sealed.

"So what do you think?"

She didn't say anything for the longest time. Then she grinned mischievously, and took his hand, her fingers lingering against his own ring, and gave it a little tug. "Come on," she ordered him softly.

"I didn't mean we'd start right now."

"I know," she replied, chuckling.

"Then where to?"

"I believe you still owe me a dance," she reminded him, then stopped on her tracks so that their gazes locked. "Everything else will follow."

But they were barely out of the shadows when someone stopped them. Maureen started, and he stared, unable to even utter that sound. For there was his mother, not gone like he'd expected, standing in front of them.

"I'll leave you two alone," Maureen said quietly, and drifted back towards the party before he could protest or plead with her to stay. They kept standing there for what felt like eternity. He had no idea what to say, how to make the first step. Was he supposed to thank her for coming? Say how much it meant to him that she did?

"I thought you left," was what came out of his lips.

"I meant to. I was sitting in my car. Cindy came looking for me. I guess I should have seen this coming. She's relentless, this daughter of mine." She raised her eyes to his. "Both of you are." It didn't quite sound like criticism, and yet he wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't. She cleared her throat. "I wasn't expecting a Jewish service."

"I may be a heretic, but I respect my heritage." She chuckled; she seemed unable to hold it back.

"I'm glad. Your father… he would have been pleased." Awkward silence ensued, as if she didn't know what to say next. "You seem happy together," she said softly, candidly. "That's all I ever wanted for you."

"I know, Mom. They make me happy."

She looked towards the dance floor, where Maureen and Libby were doing their best to imitate Scott, who was showing them some of his moves. Holding up the hem of her dress, Maureen tripped on her own feet, and threw her head back in a laugh. His mother's gaze travelled back to his, with something like plea in her eyes. "I'm not ready."

"It's okay, Mom," he said gently. "You're here. Everything else will follow."

Maureen's previous words held true, even now. His mother looked skeptical, but eventually nodded. "Well, I'll let you get back to your family," she said, and he was touched by her choice of words. She stroked his cheek as if he were a child, then moved closer and pressed her lips to his skin tenderly. When she pulled away, it felt as if new understanding was forming between the two of them. A way to work through this.

In the distance, Maureen looked in his direction just as his mother was taking her leave. She smiled at him uncertainly, and he nodded once in reply and began to make his way towards her; towards a future that now, more than ever, seemed possible.