Page 136 of Go Back to December

She gently pries her breakable merchandise out of my trembling hands and replaces it with her own. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Really?” I would expect her to unleash full Mama Bear fury for harming her cub.

She squeezes my hand. “Really.”

“I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“You said all that. You didn’t give us a chance to say we were sorry too.”

“For what?”

Sofia ushers me to a quieter corner of the gallery. “When we arrived at the hospital on Christmas Eve, we were shocked. But the biggest surprise was you.”

Before my old insecurities take hold, she adds, “It was the best unexpected gift we could hope for. That Baz had someone like you in his life. We didn’t consider that what was happening between you and Baz—whatever it was—was something new. We added extra pressure, pushing about the holiday and the lake.”

“Maybe,” I concede. “But sometimes we need that push. Or we get stuck.”

Sofia nods. “We’ve wanted Baz back in our lives for so long. You made that possible.”

“It wasn’t only me.”

“It wouldn’t have happened without you,” she says in an authoritative tone that’s a little scary.

“The way I left things at the lake wasn’t right, but I didn’t want to…lie to you,” I stammer. “I wasn’t pretending to be part of your family. That felt real to me.”

“Because it was real, miha.”

When Sofia draws me into her arms, it’s nearly as good as a Baz hug.

“The only people you and Baz were lying to were yourselves.” She pulls back so she can look me in the eye. “We all saw it. What you and Baz have together isn’t just real. It’s right.”

“I hurt him.”

“People hurt each other. It happens. Figuring out how to repair and move on together is an important part of any relationship.”

“Baz has already moved on without me. He sacrificed his practice so the café could survive, but he didn’t stay to explain why.”

“You know why,” she chides.

The only answer that makes sense is too terrifying to accept: giving up everything is his way of reaching closure. And we’re all out of chances.

“Will he ever forgive me?”

“He already has. I’m his mother, I know.” She flaps a hand. “Do you forgive him?”

I pick up the mug and trace the engraving so similar to the cup Baz left me. The gift I was too obtuse to realize came from him.

Baz doesn’t need to be forgiven. And I need to forgive myself for being so blind.

I look back at Sofia and nod. “I could use some help telling him.”

“Gracia dios.” Sofia holds up her hands and tips her head to the ceiling. “Where shall we start?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

If we’re going to talk about real bitches in sheep’s clothing, there is no bigger two-timing asshole than the weather.

Statistically speaking, February holds the record for the coldest days in the city. And the most snow. I had banked on today being a statistically representative day, so I could wear the gray coat Sybil gifted me. Instead, the mercury’s been stuck at record highs all week. I’m practically sweating in my emerald dress as I wind through the university quarter.