Corin’s eyes sparkled and my chest felt tight. My heart was ready to burst with relief. Things were going…well.

After my dad was finished the rest of us served ourselves, and I noticed that Corin piled food on her plate as though she hadn’t eaten in a year.

“Wow, Mom’s going to think you never eat,” I joked.

“I love pot roast. I haven’t had one in a long time,” she commented wistfully with faraway eyes.

“How do you like it, Corin?” Mom asked, noticing the way Corin shoveled food into her mouth.

“It’s delicious. Unbelievable, really,” she responded, holding up her full fork before putting the food in her mouth.

Mom beamed and just like that Corin won over the last member of my family.

“How did you meet Beck?” Zoe asked after filling her plate up with more potatoes.

Corin and I glanced at each other. “We, uh, we met at church.”

Zoe laughed. “Church? You don’t go to church!”

“I go there twice a week for group,” I admitted.

“That heart-attack-survivors support group?” Mom asked.

I nodded. “That’s the one.”

“And you met there?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. That’s what I said.” I didn’t want Corin to feel put on the spot. Feeling like she had to explain her condition, which I realized she had yet to really explain to me.

I could tell my mother wanted to ask what was wrong with Corin but politeness wouldn’t let her. “So, you go to support group with Beck?” she asked, tiptoeing in that way of hers that had driven me crazy since my heart attack. Why was it so hard to come out and ask the questions that you wanted to ask?

Corin nodded. “Yes. That’s where we met. He always makes sure I have plenty of tea and cookies.” She smirked at me and I grinned back, enjoying our private joke.

“So, you met in a group for people who have almost died. That’s pretty weird, guys,” Zoe piped up.

If my sister were closer, I would have kicked her.

“Don’t be so rude, Zoe,” my mom chided.

“I don’t go to the group anymore,” Corin said finally with a shrug. As if it were no big deal. But it was. It was the first I had heard that.

“You don’t? Since when?” I demanded, dropping my fork on my plate.

“Since my doctor told me that I don’t have a heart problem,” she said quietly, her mood changing instantly. She seemed worried. Serious. Not happy like she should have been.

I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “That’s wonderful, Corin! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Corin pulled her hand out of my grasp and continued eating. “This is the best pot roast I’ve ever had. Maybe even better than my mom’s,” she said, ignoring my question completely.

What was going on with her?

My mother smiled brightly. For all of Corin’s social awkwardness, she was effectively winning over my family.

“Thank you so much, Corin. How is your mom’s pot roast different?”

I hadn’t had a chance to tell my mother that Corin’s parents were deceased. It hadn’t come up. I opened my mouth to politely explain but Corin beat me to the punch.

“She’s dead. So I can’t really ask her.”

Corin closed her eyes in mortification.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that. I’m sorry,” she said softly, looking as though she wanted to crawl under the table.

My mother’s smile faded. The room went completely silent.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” my mother blustered.

“My dad’s dead too. So I haven’t had a family dinner in years. It’s nice. Really.” Corin’s cheeks were turning red and I knew she was embarrassed. I hadn’t warned my parents about Corin’s blunt-to-the-point-of-awkward honesty.

“Crap. I told you I’d say something stupid,” Corin muttered quietly, twisting her hands in her lap.

No one said a thing. Not even Zoe, who could always be counted on to say something smart-assy.

“Well, that’s too bad,” my dad stated, coughing.

“Yeah, it is. Thanks,” Corin said, trying to smile but failing completely.

“Well, we’re glad to have you here,” my mom said, salvaging what was left of the dinner conversation.

“I’m really glad to be here. Honestly. It’s a wonderful meal,” Corin said a little desperately, and I knew she was trying to claw her way out of the hole she had dug.

“It’s okay, Corin,” I whispered, squeezing her hands.

My mom was looking at my girlfriend in sympathy and my dad seemed uncomfortable. But they didn’t appear completely put off by her outburst.

I knew Corin’s parents were dead but I didn’t know the particulars. It hadn’t come up. She had never volunteered the information.

But seeing her sitting at my parents’ table, looking sadder than I could ever remember seeing her, I realized how horrible it was for me to not find out something so important.

And why in the hell wouldn’t she tell me that her doctor cleared her of having a heart condition? That was huge!

Sitting at the table with my family for the remainder of our meal was beyond difficult. Especially when I wanted to take Corin home, grill her some, and then celebrate her good news.

Corin’s mood never really recovered after that, no matter how hard she tried. It seemed almost painful for her to laugh and talk to my family.

I was glad when it was time for us to leave. The entire experience had been exhausting.

Corin thanked my parents after helping Zoe clear the table.

“It was wonderful meeting you,” my mom told her, and I could tell she meant it.

Corin and Zoe exchanged phone numbers and talked about getting together sometime.

Dad gave Corin another bear hug. “Take care, Corin, and you make sure our son brings you around again soon,” he told her.

“I’d like that a lot,” she remarked, her face still sad but the smile was more genuine.

“Can you go start the car? I’m just going to grab the leftovers,” I said to Corin, handing her the car keys.

“Yeah. That’s fine.” Corin waved to my family and headed out to the car. I followed Mom into the kitchen.

“Thanks for the invite, Mom. I know Corin was a little shy, but she really did enjoy herself.”

“She’s lovely, Beckett. I can see why you care about her so much.” I let out a sigh of relief. My mom’s approval meant a lot to me.

“I’m glad you think that, Mom—”

“But she seems to have a lot of baggage, Beck. Are you sure you can deal with that?”

Uh, excuse me?

“I thought you just said you liked her,” I said sharply, frowning and instantly defensive.

Mom put her hand on my arm. “I do, sweetheart. I really do. She’s very sweet. But it’s obvious she has experienced a lot of trauma in her life. I’m just not sure she’s the best person to share your life with when you have so much going on yourself.”

“I have baggage, Mom. A damn truckload,” I protested, annoyed.

Mom’s eyes clouded with concern. “Not like that, Beck. With her, there’s something more going on.”

I shook my head, not wanting to admit out loud how right Mom really was. Because I knew there was something more going on with Corin. I just didn’t know what.

“My heart hurts for her. It really does. To have lost both of the people she loved most in the world. That sort of grief breaks a person.” She handed me a plastic bag filled with Tupperware containers. “But you’re going through your own battles. I just don’t want hers to pull you down when you’re trying so hard to climb back up.”

I squeezed Mom’s hand, knowing she just meant well.

I knew going into this thing with Corin that it wouldn’t be easy. She was neurotic. Skittish. Scared and terrified.

But she was also loving and caring. She listened and she understood how I was feeling without my having to say a word.

She picked up on my unique frequency.

“Do I seem happy, Mom?” I asked.

My mother ran her hand through my hair in a way she had done since I was a little boy. She went up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Yes, honey, you do.”