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I wasn’t sure how to feel about this conversation. “You’re still in love with my father? Is that what you’re actually saying?”
“Of course.” She eyed me, pushing her hair back.
My mother had never given in to conventions that said a woman in her fifties should chop her hair. She still had long hair that she dyed to a soft black. I had never given much thought to it, but she was attractive. There had to be plenty of guys over the years who had expressed interest in her.
Interesting she had never moved on to someone else.
“Now stop making excuses for why you can’t fall in love and date a nice girl.”
That annoyed me. “It’s not that easy! I have a son, and not every woman wants to take that on, and I am not going to parade women in and out of his life.”
“Who says you have to parade anyone? Single parents date all the time and keep their private life separate from their kids.”
I didn’t really want to talk about me. “I don’t want to date.”
“Not even your little runaway bride?” She gave me an amused look that indicated she knew better.
“Nope. That was just sex.”
My mother snorted. “Christian, you can lie to yourself but not to your mother. No one picks up a woman at the church on her wedding day just for a booty call. You’re a bartender in a tourist town. It would not be hard to pick up a girl to go home with. That is not what is going on here.”
“You’re wrong,” I insisted.
But I thought about sitting out around the fire, Bella perched on my lap, her head resting on my shoulders as the stars shone overhead, and I knew my mother was right.
I was lying to myself.
