Page 143 of Pretender

“That’s kind of you,” I say. Normally I’d find some excuse to eat alone. I’ve always enjoyed being alone. But the idea of having her warmth near me, keeping me preoccupied, feels much better. I’ll have enough time alone going forward unless some miracle happens in the next few days, although I can’t picture what could soothe my concerns at this stage.

CHAPTER FORTY

gioia di mamma

AIDEN

The brick-paved courtyard is bustling with guests who are staying at the manor house for the wedding. I park in the corner, as instructed by the uniformed man in the middle, and after switching the car off, I sit for a moment.

Linnea’s yet to confirm if she’s coming, but regardless, I’ve decided to tell Mum the truth.

That’s why my stomach hurts.

This is what I’d normally push away from, isn’t it? This queasy sensation. My stomach clenching from having to deal with pain, knowing I can’t control the outcome.

It reminds me of what Linnea said her grandfather had taught her. Do what you can, or don’t worry about it. Something like that. What I can do is come clean to Mum, and because I can’t control how she reacts, I will try not to worry about that.

But I control how I respond.

I can push past the discomfort, the heavy pain sitting on my chest, and explain what I’ve learned about myself in the past week.

One bender. One therapy session. One hundred hours of rumination and reading through letters I’ve not even glanced at for thirteen years.

There’s a knock on my window and I look up into the face I know better than any. The deep brown wells of Mum’s eyes. She grins and waves, for a moment making me forget that I’m about to break her heart.

Nah, there’s that pain again.

I won’t allow distractions.

Her expression falters when I don’t move and she waves me out. I force my legs to work and step out of my vehicle.

“Gioia di mamma,” she says and hugs me around the middle. “So good to see you, my son.”

“Can we walk?” I ask, gesturing to the gardens. I’ve been here once before and recall it’s a decent path. Plenty of places to sit and space to wander around. Time to get all the words out.

“You don’t want to come inside? See your⁠—”

“Not yet,” I interrupt. “I need to speak with you.”

“Oh, certo. Dài, andiamo.” She hooks her arm through mine and we stroll. Once past the wide, blue-flowered bushes, she squeezes my arm. “Dimmi che è successo.” ‘Tell me what happened.’

“This is hard for me to say out loud, so you need to let me talk. Give me the time to get it out.”

“Understood.” She tilts her head sideways, her thick, groomed eyebrows curl up in concern.

“It was a lie, at the start.” I clear my throat. Come on, Aiden. Just as I imagined myself saying it. I can do it. “When you asked who I was seeing, and I said Linnea. It wasn’t true.”

She shakes her head, knitting her brow. “But your face⁠—”

“Mamma, per favore.” I close my eyes. “I need to just get it all out. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“It became true, after a few weeks. I realised I’ve liked her for a long time, actually, that she’s all I ever dreamed of.” I suck in my lower lip, wondering how I let myself fuck this up. I’ve tried to unpack it all. “We were perfect, for a bit.”

“Were?”

I rub my neck and stare at the gravel path. “I messed up.”