Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 152

Mothers and Mayhem

The house is quieter now. The kind of quiet that only settles once everyone’s bellies are full and the night’s gone soft around the edges. From down the hall, I can hear Diego’s small, drowsy voice mumbling something about dragons and treasure. When I step into the doorway, Sage is sitting cross–legged on the edge of his bed, her voice low and steady as she reads. She doesn’t just read, though; she performs. Every word comes alive in that quiet way of hers, full of expression even when she doesn’t mean it to be. Diego’s eyelids are already drooping, his stuffed dinosaur tucked under his chin. The lamp throws a warm circle of light over both of them, her hair catching the glow, his little face soft and untroubled. It hits me right in the chest. This image. This peace. She closes the book softly, setting it aside, and just sits there a moment longer, smoothing a hand through his hair. I lean against the doorframe and think I could watch this scene forever.

Then, from somewhere down the hall, I hear it.

“Connor Patrick O’Neill, get your arse over here right now!”

The whisper–yell is unmistakable. I close my eyes and exhale through my nose. Oh, here we go. Pa spilled the beans. I cast one last look at Sage, still sitting there, lost in that moment of calm, and quietly pull the door closed behind me. Ma’s standing halfway down the hall, hands on her hips, eyes sharp even in the dim light. She’s already wound up; I can see it in the tight press of her mouth.

I raise a hand, keeping my voice low. “Ma, not so loud. You’ll wake Diego.”

She waves me off like I’m a mosquito. “Don’t you ‘Ma‘ me. You get your backside out here, now.”

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck, and step closer. She immediately grabs my sleeve and drags me into the living room like I’m twelve again and about to be scolded for tracking mud across the floor.

“Well?” she demands, the moment we’re out of earshot. “Show me the damn ring.”

I blink, half–laughing. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Time’s for people who aren’t dying of curiosity,” she snaps, snapping her fingers at me like she’s calling a dog. “Out with it.”

There’s no winning this one. I pull the little box from my pocket and hand it over.

She opens it fast, and her face instantly crumples. “Where’s the diamond? Where’s the stone?”

1 almost laugh. “Not every ring needs one, Ma.”

She squints at it, unimpressed, until she turns it just right under the lamp and catches sight of the engraving inside. Her expression softens immediately, her shoulders dropping, her eyes going a little glassy.

“Oh,” she breathes, “Oh, darling,”

Her thumb runs over the inside of the band, slow and tender. “That’s beautiful,” she says, voice low now. “That’s very much her. I think she’ll love that.”

I can’t help but smile. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Ma snaps the box shut and presses it back into my hand, all business again. “Alright, then. Let’s plan some things.”

I groan. “Ma, no-”

“Don’t you ‘Ma, no‘ me, Connor. You can’t just throw a woman like that a half–baked backyard ceremony.”

1/3

12:30 am DWWM.

Mothers and Mayhem

“Half–baked? I just want something small and simple. Just family.”

“Of course,” she says sweetly, which immediately makes me suspicious. “Simple, of course. Just a few flowers, a few lights, maybe some food, oh, and we’ll have to find something for the girl to wear. Can’t have her getting married in one of your old shirts.”

“Ma-”

“And music,” she adds, tapping her chin. “Maybe Liam can get that old speaker working again. Oh, and the boys can string up those fairy lights from the barn to the porch, wouldn’t that look lovely?”

“Ma.”

“Maybe Diego can carry the rings! Oh, bless him, wouldn’t that just-”

“Ma!”

She stops mid–thought, blinking at me like she’s just realised I’ve been speaking. “What?”

1 rub my temples. “It’s supposed to be small. Nothing big, no, whatever you’re picturing with fairy lights. Just something quiet, alright?”

“Quiet,” she repeats, nodding. “Of course, quiet.”

I narrow my eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

She flashes a smile that’s all teeth. “Course I do, son. Quiet as a church mouse.”

There’s no stopping her. I know that tone. I’ve heard it before, right before birthdays that somehow turned into neighbourhood feasts.

I sigh. “You’re gonna do it anyway, aren’t you?”

She pats my cheek affectionately. “You’ve known me your whole life, Connor. What do you think?”

Behind us, Pa appears in the hallway, clearly having heard every word. He’s trying and failing not to laugh.

“Ma,” I say, pointing at him, “he told you, didn’t he?”

She waves a hand. “Course he did. You think he can keep a secret from me? Please.”

Pa grins. “She’s terrifying, son. I value my life.”

Ma shoots him a look that could strip paint. “Don’t act like you weren’t excited about it too.”

He holds up both hands. “I’m just here for the beer and moral support.”

“Useless,” she mutters. Then she turns back to me. “Now, tell me when this thing is happening. Tomorrow? Two days?”

“Tomorrow evening,” I admit. “Sunset.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, sunset! Perfect lighting. We’ll need flowers that match the sky, soft colours, nothing too bright. Maybe lavender and cream.”

“Ma,” I warn.

2/3

12:30 am

Mothers and Mayhem

“Simple,” she insists, nodding. “Just a touch of charm. Trust me, darling, I’ll make it look like heaven without anyone noticing.”

“Uh–huh,” I say, unconvinced.

She pats my arm. “Go get some rest. You’ll need it. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

I start to protest again, but she’s already turning toward the kitchen, muttering under her breath about pies and centrepieces and “quiet elegance.”

Pa claps me on the back as she disappears around the corner. “You really thought she’d keep it small?”

“I hoped,” I mutter.

He grins, heading after her. “Hope’s for fools, son.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair and glancing toward the hallway where Sage and Diego are. I can still hear Sage’s soft voice drifting through the

door, the rhythm of her words wrapping the house in calm. And even with the chaos brewing in the kitchen, even knowing what tomorrow will bring, I can’t

help but smile. Because somehow, in all of this noise, it feels like my kind of peace.

Comments

R Visitor

THIS BOOK! Loved it

1 days ago