It’s been days. Well over a week, I think.
Time heals all, they say, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be over him. No matter how much I want to be.
“I don’t know what’s going on with Ethan,” Mom says gently. “But supposedly he’s vanished and left his company. It’s safe to say his issues go a lot deeper than anything that happened with you.”
But I wasn’t enough.
I was just one more issue he couldn’t handle. One more lie he had to run from.
It’s a rogue thought I can’t banish.
“I never should’ve acted like I deserved him,” I whisper. “Even if it was just pretend.”
“What? No! Hattie, you stop that.” Mom’s tone sharpens. “Listen to me—you’re a smart, funny, gorgeous, generous girl. You deserve so much better than a shit-bird who can’t tell up from down.”
“Mom!” I half laugh. “I thought you liked him?”
“I did. Clearly, I thought he was better than he really is, dear. Now, eat.” Mom hands me a fork, gesturing to the pie on my plate. “When I first found out about you guys, I thought he’d be a good match. I let Blackthorn money dazzle me. Never again.”
“Yeah,” I agree sadly.
“So let’s just eat some pie and forget his stupid lying face for a few minutes. And I want you to remember it’sneveryour responsibility to save a man from himself. You offered to help and he still walked out, didn’t he?”
There’s old resentment in her voice. Everything that happened with her and Dad burbling up through years of hardened pain.
I smile weakly and dig into my pie. It’s so good and fresh it distracts me for about five seconds.
“It’s not quite that simple, Mom. Ethan, he was shocked out of his skin. He found out his whole family lied to him.”
“Well, I don’t know much about that drama, but the way he’s handling them, that’s his choice,” she says firmly. “There’s no denying he’s a tortured soul. Perhaps through no fault of his own. Still, you shouldn’t be dragged along on his train of suffering. I’m proud you have a backbone, Hattie. That’s a lesson I learned too late.”
“Oh, Mom.”
We quietly stuff our mouths with blueberry heaven.
I don’t dare tell her I’d let Ethan drag me through a hundred miles of absolute horror if it meant he’d apologize.
If it would bust open the vault around his damaged black heart and show me hefeelssomething for me.
If he has to suffer and upend his life, I’d rather do it together, right by his side.
But there’s no point in outing childish fantasies.
I may dream a lot, but I’m too old to be a daydream believer.
This is real life, not a romance novel.
Ethan isn’t riding back on a white horse to throw himself down at my feet and gush out his sappy, secretly obsessed-with-me heart.
I don’t mind Mom being weirdly nice and supportive, though. Or watching her inhale blueberry pie like a desert dweller who hasn’t seen a drop of water for months.
I guess years of hardcore sugar denial and kale juice gutrot finally caught up with her.
And yeah, she bought it instead of making it, but it clearly came from a real bakery.
That’s worth indulging this mother-daughter moment.
Despite my shattered heart rattling in my ribs, I smile.
