Chapter 10: Sunday Dinner

Jo's POV

Tom's mother lived in a brick house in Oak Park with a porch swing.

A wreath had hung on the door since Christmas.

Graham carried a bakery box in one hand and held my elbow with the other on the steps.

"You don't have to be nice to her," he said, low.

"I'm always nice."

"I know. That's why I said it."

His hand slid to the small of my back as we reached the door, and it stayed there.

It was nothing. A man steadying a woman on a cast.

But he had never once put a hand there before, and I felt the heat of his palm through the knit.

I leaned back into it before I could stop myself.

I did not move away.

His mouth came down close to my ear.

"Say the word and we leave," he murmured.

"We've only just arrived."

"I know. I'm still offering."

The door opened.

A small white-haired woman in an apron stood there, with Daphne's eyes.

"There she is. The girl who sat Graham Ellery down at a diner and made him eat meatloaf with his phone in a bag."

"News travels," I said.

"In this family, honey, it flies."

She pulled me into a hug that smelled of onions and talcum powder.

She was Tom's mother, and Daphne called her Mom.

In two minutes I understood why Graham had spent eight years afraid to disappoint her.

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