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I nod. “It was awful. I ended up hiding away at boarding school, where I was protected. I wanted Dad to divorce Mum. He deserved better. And I thought he was going to do that when all of it unravelled. Caleb forgave Mum first. And … and I was so angry at him for doing that. She didn’t deserve any of our forgiveness, and I was furious that he did it. I … I’m not proud of this, but I accused him of betraying Dad. Of choosing her over him. I told Caleb it was like he was accepting what she did, and it was hurting Dad, but in reality, he was hurting me, too. At least that is what I thought. And I flung all of that in his face, trying to get him to respond how I thought he should. It was wrong, and I’m so ashamed of what I put him through.”
There. I admitted something I’m not proud of now, and I swallow hard as I gauge Mason’s reaction to it.
“Catherine, you were a teenager. You can’t judge yourself for responding like one,” he says simply. “You were hurt and humiliated. Your family fell apart, and thanks to social media, the whole world could comment on it. That’s devastating.”
“I forgave Caleb,” I say, needing to get the next part out. “Then I had to forgive my dad when he told me he wanted to work things out with Mum. At first, I fought against it. Mum didn’t deserve him. I know why she had the affair—she was lonely, feeling disconnected, and she fell for Lars. But it didn’t make it right. She could have gone about it in another way. Told my dad they needed counselling. Filed for divorce. Anything but a careless affair with someone who worked for the family. And I couldn’t forgive her for that. It took a long time and a lot of therapy to be able to put it aside. But our relationship has never been what it used to be. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mum. I see her when we’re in the same city at the same time. But there’s always a part of me that remembers what she is capable of, even though she said over and over that it was a mistake. I don’t fully trust her, and I have that barrier in place. And she knows it, which makes me feel guilty. I know it’s wrong.”
There. I’ve said it. I bite my lip, anxiously trying to read Mason’s face. Will he think I’m childish for the way I think? A bitch? Both?
“Why are you wrong about that?”
I blink. I didn’t expect this answer from him.
“You forgave your mum. How you have a relationship going forward is up to you,” he says. “You have that barrier in place because you think it needs to be there. Maybe one day, it won’t. You’ve forgiven her, which is huge. But you don’t have to forget it.”
I’m stunned by his answer.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Mason asks.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re shocked I don’t think your skeleton is horrible.”
“To be honest? I am kind of shocked. I beat myself up over my feelings all the time.”
“Not that I’m a psychologist, but I think you need to give yourself credit for how far you’ve come. This might be what your relationship with your mum will always be, but that’s for you to decide, not anyone else. You came to that realisation with your dad and Caleb. You need to have that same realisation about yourself.”
I never expected this from Mason. He’s thoughtful. Non-judgemental. And I feel safe with him.
“I … I’ve never told anyone that before,” I confess.
“I promise you it won’t leave this table. You’re not a bad person, Catherine. And you’re definitely not a bad daughter.”
My throat practically closes up with emotion. I have carried so much secret guilt about my feelings that I didn’t even realise it until this moment. I reach for my champagne again but change my mind and pick up my glass of water instead. The last thing I need to do is get drunk whilst being with Mason. I’d say something stupid I’d regret.
Like, “Hey, I’ve had a crush on you since the start of the F1 season, wanna make out?”
“What are you thinking?” Mason asks.
GAH! Think of a lie, any lie, but do not tell him that!
Besides, he’s a fit F1 driver. He doesn’t make out. He would hook up.
I get a flash of that in my head and NO NO NO NO, DO NOT THINK OF MASON NAKED, NO.
Or even in his fireproofs. He’s so hot in his fireproofs.
STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.
“Catherine?”
“I was thinking we need worse skeletons,” I blurt out.
AND I’VE DONE THE OVERTAKE AND GOTTEN MYSELF OUT OF TROUBLE, HIGH-FIVE TO ME.
He leans back in his chair and quirks a brow. “Worse?”
The man is entirely too sexy for his own damn good. I wonder if he can see how my pulse is throbbing in my neck simply from looking at him.