Burke followed suit as she continued.
“So my actual grandmother was killed during delivery when she had my mom. And it was even more tragic since it took them fifteen years to have a successful pregnancy. But on the flipside, it gave them fifteen years together, you know? If she was destined to die in childbirth—and who knows if she was—at least they had those years together first.”
He nodded. “True.”
“So Wilfred raised her on his own until Gretchen, my grandma, came along. That’s when my mom was about ten. My granddad says Gretchen tried to be the perfect mother to her, but my mom was just…” She paused there, the first spark of emotion showing in her eyes as she glanced at the hanging lights for a blink.
Burke leaned in even more as she fixed her eyes back on him.
“She was probably bitter, you know? Her real mom died. And so she’s getting raised by her dad and it’s just the two of them, until suddenly some lady steps into the picture and takes time away from her and tries to replace her mom.”
He couldn’t help but admire the way she’d made sense of it. Being generous to both sides. “I could see that,” he said.
Justine reached beyond the wineglass and secured her iced water this time. She took a few sips before setting it back into place. “Anyway, she acted out. Gave them hell, apparently. She experimented with alcohol, got into drugs, and when she was just sixteen, she gave birth to me.”
“That’s…a lot younger than my mom was,” Burke said. And it was, by half, actually; his mother had been in her thirties when he was born.
A sigh slipped through Justine’s lips as she ran the tips of her fingers along the outside of her glass. Drops trickled to the base and seeped onto the coaster.
“I guess there was a lot of talk over whether they should keep me or give me up for adoption since my bio father refused to be in the picture, but my mom didn’t want to give me up, so my grandparents agreed to help her out and told her they’d, you know, make it work, I guess.”
She sighed. “Long story short, my mom’s behavior never changed. She came and went as she pleased. Started leaving for longer periods of time and, eventually, just stopped coming by altogether.”
An achy knot rose in Burke’s throat. “You’ve been through a lot,” he said. Heck, it was hard enough growing up without a dad. At least his mother had been there to raise him. “When was the last time you remember seeing your mom?”
“I saw her briefly at Gretchen’s funeral. She sat in the back with some guy, came up to the front while the final hymn played, and gave Wilfred a sideways hug before taking off.”
Burke tried to hide the shock on his face. “She didn’t even acknowledge you?”
Justine shook her head. “Nope. I could tell—when she leaned in to give my granddad a hug—that she was avoiding eye contact with me. Unnaturally so. It wasn’t like she didn’t notice me. She knew I was sitting right next to him, and she kept her eyes aimed on the other side of the chapel.
“I’m sorry. That would have been rough.” Burke could see it in his mind—Justine, there to mourn the loss of the woman who raised her, and getting rejected yet again by the woman who refused to play the role.
“It’s stupid, too, because I’d made up my mind to not let her hurt me anymore, you know? For years I thought she’d come back and play a significant role in my life. That she’d somehow just…realize what she was missing and want to be a part of it.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eye. Burke pulled in a shallow breath, sensing the urge to comfort her somehow.
“That whole issue with my mom makes this fiancé situation all the more complex. The mean girl I told you about?”
Burke nodded. “Brittany.”
Justine grinned. “Yes. She used to razz me about my mom too. I made the mistake of saying she was coming to our third grade Christmas play. For whatever reason, I had it in my head that she really was. Maybe she’d said on a phone call that she would, or I might have just imagined that she’d never miss it.”
She glanced at her wineglass as she traced a circle along the base. “Brittany ran up to me after the play and challenged me to point out my mom. She didn’t see anyone new there so I was probably just lying.” Justine sighed and shook her head. “I lied then. I couldn’t help it, I was desperate. I told Brittany that my mom had been there but that she had to step out to take a call and probably got called away to work. She was busy running a company is what I said.
“She and the other girls asked around and, of course it’s a small town, so it wasn’t hard for them to get the truth—that my mom wasn’t running a company, she was simply running away—from us.” Justine’s eyes shifted to a spot behind Burke, cuing him into their company a moment before he could see them himself.
“Your appetizers,” the gentleman said, sliding the items onto the table between them.
“Thank you,” Burke said with a nod.
Justine smiled. “This looks delicious.”
The waiter promised to be back shortly with their meals before ducking toward the exit.
Justine watched and, as soon as he was gone, set her eyes back on Burke. “This is probably the worst date you’ve ever been on.”
Her comment took him off-guard. “How so?”
“The sad story. This is horrible. I should have brushed past all that stuff without going into the depressing details.”
The comment made Burke realize that he’d egged her on for more. Asking about the last time she’d seen her mother. “I didn’t want you to brush past it. I’m trying to get to know you.” The truth of that statement stirred low in his belly as she held his gaze. Yes, he was capable of letting go of his fears. At least with Justine and, at least, for now.
“Well,” she said, reaching for a piece of shrimp and dipping it into the cocktail sauce. “Now it’s my turn to hear about you.”
He shifted in his seat, realizing he may have to guard a few things.
“So, Burke,” Justine said with a satisfied grin. “Let’s hear your story.”
“What do you want to know?” He glanced down at the mushroom platter and speared one with his fork. “Think I’ll go for one of these mushrooms first,” he mumbled.
“How about you do what I did,” she suggested. “Give me a rundown of your life, and I can ask questions as they come up.” She speared a mushroom as well.
“Okay,” Burke agreed. “But only two.”
Justine glanced down at the dozen or so mushrooms as she chewed. “Only two what?” she asked once she’d gulped it down.
He chuckled under his breath. “Only two questions.”
She joined him with a chuckle of her own. “We’ll see about that.”
Burke gave his mouth a few dabs with the napkin before speaking. “Okay, I was raised in Manhattan by my mother. It was just the two of us. Most of the time we got along. My grandma, before she died, she’d come stay with us over the holidays. Those are probably my fondest childhood memories, when my grandmother was there. We didn’t have any family outside of that.”
“Wow,” Justine said. “So you never met your father either?”