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“I'm surprised you noticed at all. Aren't you busy with What's-His-Name? Or have you already moved on to someone else?” I say it half-teasingly, half-seriously.
My mom doesn't even wince. She looks at me evenly. “You shouldn't get involved with him. You barely know him.”
My mouth drops open as I stare at her incredulously. “Wow, Mom. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”When she continues to stare at me sternly, I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Are you serious right now?”
“I know what I'm talking about, Emily,” she insists.
I'm shocked we're even having this conversation. I don't think my mother has ever spoken to me in such a stern tone before, and I'm mind-boggled about the entire thing.
It’s fucking with my head, and all the pent-up frustration I've suppressed over the years finally comes bubbling out. “No. You don't get to do this right now.” I motion between us. “You don't get to play the caring mother. Not now I've grown up. You certainly don't get to give me advice about men. Not when you're the biggest slut I know.”
Again, my mom doesn't even blink. She stands there with her lips pursed before she finally says, “That's fair. But let me tell you this, Emily. There's a reason I don't get too attached to a man.”
She pauses as if she expects me to ask her why, but I just cross my arms and glare at her.
“When you keep a man around for too long, you risk catching feelings for him, and then he’ll do nothing but use you. I learned that the hard way. It's best to play with them and put them back before they get the chance.”
Something about my mother’s words and her weary tone of voice gives me pause. She sounds so lonely—my mother, who’s never lacking for male companionship.I stare at her sadly, wondering who hurt her enough to have her believe this is the way it should be.
“I just don't want to see you get hurt, Em.” Mom's voice is soft when she calls me by my nickname. “You remind me so much of myself when I was your age, with stars and dreams in your eyes.” She smiles sadly as she looks at me. “You've got that dangerous look in your eyes.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“You're falling in love.” Her eyes are sympathetic before she reminds me gently, “And you know this can never work. Your man is a country boy, through and through. I've seen him swaggering around the resort with that walk that says he was born in the saddle. You're a city girl, Em. You're here on vacation, and he knows that. You're nothing but a fling to him.”
Mom's words cut deep because it’s what I’ve been afraid of deep down, too.
But Cole said you were his. Remember the possessive way he claimed you and said he's never letting you go?
Words spoken in passion, my rational mind reminds me.
“Emily, I know you think I'm a total flake, and I know I’ve not been the best mother, but I’m only trying to help you, not hurt you, honey.”
I stare at this woman who’s my mother but not. She’s right. She hasn’t been the best mother, but I know she’s right. There’s no way Cole and I can ever be more than a fling.
I don't say another word. I go to my room and begin packing up my things, my heart heavy with what I know I have to do.
