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“Sweetie, you could do so much better than this small little place.” She tsks.
My apartment is considered large—certainly larger than one person really needs—by LA standards. It’s expensive enough that she should be thrilled her daughter can afford such luxury on her salary.
“So what brings you to LA?”
She spins around, a smile blooming on her face, except only her mouth moves—thanks to Botox most likely. “You, of course! Well, I needed a little work done, and the best doctor is down here, so I thought, two birds one stone, you know.” She flicks her hand dismissively.
It shouldn’t hurt that she isn’t really here to see me—it’s exhausting being around her for any length of time—but the little girl that lives inside every woman aches with longing for a mother who would come to visit her daughter first, instead of being here for unnecessary surgery.
She looks me up and down, her look turning calculated. “You’re dressed up. Perfect. You can take me out to dinner. I have some very exciting news to share with you.” She leans closer, dropping her voice like she’s spilling a secret she doesn’t want overheard despite the fact no one else is here. “I met an amazing man, and he’s here in LA!”
She always meets an amazing man—amazing until he drops her like a hot potato. And if he’s in LA, does that mean she’s not just here for a visit, but lives here now?
I rub a finger along my temple. “I thought you were still with Patrick.”
She spins away, moving farther into my living room. “Oh honey, no. I could’ve sworn I told you ages ago. He was too old for me anyway. I need a more virile man, if you know what I mean.” She spins around and winks at me before focusing back on the pictures on my wall, while I fight against the urge to vomit.
The last thing I want to think about is my mom’s sex life.
Gross.
“I saw some tabloids recently…quite a juicy story in fact…about you and Dom.” She glances at me and studies my expression before bursting into laughter while I remain frozen. “Oh my gosh. You didn’t. Sweet girl, that is not a man who will be faithful. Trust me, honey. I should know. I’ve had my fair share of athletes. They’re hot in the sack, but they can’t be faithful to save their lives. It’s not really their fault. All that testosterone and the attention they get in every city. Who could say no to women throwing themselves all over them?” Her gaze scans me from head to toe, and by the twist of her lips, she finds me lacking.
My stomach knots.
“Sweetie, you know I love you, but a man won’t be faithful to you if you don’t cut back on the carbs or hit a gym. If Brad Pitt could cheat on a woman as beautiful as Jennifer Aniston then none of us are safe, but especially not someone so…curvy. I could recommend my plastic surgeon for some lipo, but I really think you’re reaching out of your league with Dom.”
She walks toward me, graceful as a movie star walking the red carpet, and puts her palm on my cheek in a tender gesture that’s so at odds with the vicious words that just left her mouth. Can she see the gaping wound from the metaphorical knife she shoved through my heart? As if I needed her to add doubts to what’s going on with Dom and me when I was finally starting to feel like I was on solid ground with him.
“You know I’m only this honest because I love you and don’t want to see you heartbroken, right?”
I swallow all the emotions bubbling up. “I know, Mom.”
There’s a knock on my door, and despite worrying about who got into my building without being buzzed up, I’m grateful for the interruption.
When I open the door, Dom stands there in a pair of dark slacks and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A bouquet of red roses is held in his hands, and his face lights up when he sees me, the way it always does, except now I notice there’s an added heat to his eyes when he looks at me.
He scans me from head to toe like my mom just did, but I already know based on how his expression morphs to blatant hunger that he doesn’t find me lacking at all.
Not yet, at least.
I know I shouldn’t listen to my mother’s callous words. I know. But knowing and doing are two different things, and when the person who tells you something so awful is also the same person who’s supposed to love you unconditionally, you question this kind of look from someone who doesn’t have to love you at all.
Dom must notice something in my eyes—an emotion only he’d pick up on after years of knowing all my tells—because he starts to frown before his gaze shoots to movement behind me. I watch his whole face shutter when he sees my mom before he glances back at me.
“Mrs…Sorry, I don’t know what you’re going by anymore.”
“Oh please, Dom, I told you ages ago to call me Cynthie. Hell, a man as handsome as you, I’d let you call me Cyn,” she says seductively like her name could have two meanings.
I’d roll my eyes, but nothing surprises me about this woman anymore. Certainly not her blatant perusal of the man she just told me I wasn’t good enough for because I’d never be able to keep his interest.
“Sorry, Mom, but I can’t hang out with you tonight. Dom and I have plans.”
She pouts, but like everything else about her, it’s fake. “Oh, but honey, I’m only in town tonight. I leave tomorrow.”
“You flew to LA for one day?” Dom asks.
She laughs that gratingly fake laugh. “Oh, you’re too funny, Dominic. No, no. I got here about two weeks ago, but I spent that first week with Frederic, my new man, and then the second week recovering from a procedure. Got a little nip/tuck. You know how it is.”
