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She was expecting me and her father followed by a drive back to Carver Springs, to her home. I could not spring all of this news on her at the airport after a long international flight and a tearful goodbye with the boy she was convinced was her soulmate. Then again, she’d been rather quiet on the subject of Jacques the last time I spoke to her, so I’d wondered if he was history.
I kind of hoped for that. Even though it was a horrible thing for a mother to think. A good mother would want her daughter to be happy. To find that happiness wherever it came. But I wasn’t exactly a good mother. Not with everything I’d kept from her, everything I was piling onto her. So I was secretly wishing that the older French man was not going to keep my daughter halfway across the world from me.
I was secretly wishing that my almost nineteen-year-old daughter was not going to define her young adulthood around a man. I wanted her to discover herself, explore the world, go to college, do all of the things that I couldn’t do.
Of course, Violet was much too strong-willed to live a life that someone else wanted for her. That was one of the things I loved most about her.
It was that strong will I was worried about. If she decided that I was the villain of this scenario—without the truth I wasn’t willing to give her—then it would be a battle to get her to forgive me.
And as much as I wanted to tell her this news in person, I needed to give her some time to process. Some distance if she decided she hated me.
I was already full of guilt and self-hatred.
Swiss was also coming because he was not letting me go anywhere without him. I should’ve argued on that one. Violet was going to have enough to handle without introducing her to my biker fiancé on top of it all.
But I didn’t argue about that. I couldn’t. I’d traveled across the country absolutely and utterly alone, much weaker than I was now. I knew that technically, I was very capable of doing it now that I was much stronger and surer of myself. I just didn’t want to.
And selfishly, I did want Violet to meet Swiss. Even if the timing was supremely fucked-up.
I picked up the phone, dialing then putting it on speakerphone.
Violet answered after a handful of rings. “Yes, Mom, I have my passport in my purse, and yes, I have double checked that my departure time is a.m. not p.m.,” she said by way of greeting.
I smiled despite my sense of impending doom. “Good to hear, darling.”
“I’m not going to oversleep, I promise.” She spoke fast, and I imagined her packing her bag—stuffing things into a suitcase, not carefully folding. I wondered if Jacques was there, lying on a bed, smoking a cigarette and drinking espresso. I hated Jacques, having never met him, having no basis to form that opinion, just on instinct.
“I don’t think you’re going to oversleep,” I lied. She would totally oversleep. And she’d call me, frantic in a cab to the airport, asking if we could rebook her flight if she missed it.
Not that she made a habit of doing such things—this was the first time my daughter was getting herself to an international flight in a foreign country—I just knew my daughter.
“I’m calling to… um, talk to you about something else, hon,” I said, gaze flickering to Swiss. His hand found my thigh and squeezed.
“Oh my god, do you have cancer?” she exclaimed. “I knew your voice was not bronchitis. Okay, so you need to stop eating any and all processed foods right this instant. And apricot seeds. They have been proven to be more effective than the poison drug companies peddle,” she ranted, working her way up to hysteria. I knew if I let her keep going she would be booking me into some alternative medicine retreat somewhere I couldn’t eat Oreos.
“No, I do not have cancer,” I interrupted quickly. “Your father and I are divorced, and I’m living in New Mexico with a man I’ve fallen in love with and plan on marrying.”
Swiss raised his brow at everything I’d blurted out in one sentence. We’d spoken about how this conversation might go. Or rather, I’d paced the bedroom, while he laid in bed naked, and muttered my ‘script’ under my breath.
That was not part of my script.
My script took about twenty-seven minutes. I’d timed it.
It was careful, thoughtful and eased Violet into the truth.
What I’d just blabbered was not careful or thoughtful. It certainly did not ease Violet into the truth.
There was dead silence on the other end of the phone.
Dead silence.
Never in her life had my daughter been struck speechless. She had a response for anything. She was the best on her debate team, she sparred with strangers who had years on her. She was sharp, brave, and a little argumentative.
But… nothing.
Shit.
“Okay, honey, I hadn’t exactly planned on saying that all at once,” I said, leaning into Swiss. “I was going to ease you into it. And I understand this is hard to hear on the other side of the world, especially since when you left you had no idea anything was happening, and now you’re coming home to a whole new normal.”
