“That something was happening.”
“Nothing is happening,” Diane replied.
Maya pointed at the coffee.
“Two cups. One morning. Ethan making it without being asked. Mom, please.”
I tried not to laugh.
Maya pulled out a chair.
“I’m happy for you,” she said, her expression suddenly serious. “Both of you.”
Diane reached for her hand.
“I haven’t promised him anything.”
“Good. Don’t promise him anything you don’t mean. But don’t let fear make your decisions for you, either.”
Diane looked at her daughter with a tenderness that made me look away.
Maya squeezed her mother’s hand.
“Dad loved you. He would never have wanted you to spend the rest of your life proving how much you miss him.”
The room became very quiet.
Diane blinked rapidly.
Maya leaned over and kissed her forehead.
Then she turned to me.
“Be good to her, Ethan.”
“I intend to be.”
“Intentions are nice. Consistency is better.”
