Chapter 23

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It had been five months since Harry and I had kissed and made the decision to give ourselves a year to figure things out. One thing we were supposed to accomplish in this year was to win our families over to the idea of a relationship between us.

I decided it was time to broach the subject with my mom. She knew the Styles family well enough, and I hoped she would at least consider the idea before making harsh judgments.

We were walking through the mall, pushing Rachael in a stroller with the other girls walking along in front of us.

"Mom," I said hesitantly.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" She asked somewhat mindlessly.

"I think I'm ready for a relationship," I said.

"That's wonderful, Lise!" She said. We walked on for a bit longer. Then she asked, "Do you have someone in mind?" And she gave me a little smirk.

"Well...."

She could sense my reluctance to continue. "Well, who is it, Lise?"

"You might not like the idea, so just keep an open mind, okay?"

"Oh, Lise, it's not Harold again, is it?" She cringed. I had told her enough about Harold that she knew he wasn't exactly "my type."

"No, Mom, it's not Harold." I paused. Finally I whispered, "It's Harry."

My mom stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned to look at me. "Lise!" She whispered sharply. "You can't be serious!"

I bit my lip and looked away from her harsh gaze. "I am serious, Mom. I'm in love with him."

She was silent for a long time, and then we were interrupted by the Grace. "Mommy, can we ride on the train?" She asked, referring to the miniature locomotive in the middle of the mall.

"Of course, lovey," I said, digging out several coins and getting the girls situated on the train. Then I walked back to my mom and waited for her to say something.

"Lise, surely you must know how inappropriate that is!" She snapped.

"Why, Mom?"

"It just is. He's so much younger than you."

"Well, Mom, you were the one who said, Age shouldn't matter one bit if you love someone," reminding her of her exact words to me about Harold.

"Well, that was different," she said curtly.

"Different how?" I pressed.

"It just is. Harold is older."

"So? I'm older than Harry? Why does it matter?"

"It's just not right," she said, as if she wanted to drop the subject.

"I love him, Mom."

When I said that, she lost it. "Stop it, Lise! Harry is young and good-looking, his family has money, and you see all the potential he has as a musician. Of course, you'd find him attractive! It doesn't mean you're in love with him."

"But I am in love with him, Mom," I whispered, on the verge of tears.

"It's time for you to grow up, Lise!"

That was the end of our conversation since the girls' train ride ended. We shared an awkward ride home in painful silence. When she dropped me off and got ready to leave, she said, "I'm sure you'll find the right person some day."

I already have, I thought as she drove away.

I stayed in a funk for days after I talked with my mom. Was I really just obsessed with Harry because he was so handsome and exciting and had so much potential for his future? Of course, his looks struck me the first time I saw him, but I don't fall in love with every hot guy I meet. Harry and I had built a solid friendship for nine months before we admitted our true feelings to each other. He understood me in ways that few people did. He was sweet and funny and so insightful. There was no way I was into Harry just because of his looks. I really felt like he did - like he was my soul mate. So what if there were ten years between us?

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