Last Meal

Kieran was worth fighting for, our marriage was worth fighting for. I sucked in a deep breath, hoped my voice wouldn’t shake so much, and forced myself to look up, into Beata’s wise, old eyes. ‘Nana, I—’ She waved a hand dismissively. ‘I’m not your nana.’ I swallowed the rebuff. ‘Mrs Valentine, I can’t choose my parents. I don’t have a say in the way I was born. But I’m not my…my father. I believe nurture trumps nature. I’ve never broken a law in my life, that is, if you don’t count jaywalking.’ That failed to elicit a smile from her like I hoped. I gulped and ploughed ahead. ‘I love Kieran very, very much. I think he feels the same way about—’ ‘It’s not about feelings, his or yours,’ Beata interrupted, kindly but firmly. ‘I know my grandson. And I know he won’t give up so easily. He’ll fight for you, just like you are fighting for him right now. I’m afraid this is one of the times when I cannot afford to indulge him. I love the boy, but I have a responsibility to the Valentine family.