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“Then he yelled at me, Mom. In the middle of the cafeteria. He told me I was selfish. That I didn’t know how to be happy for anyone else. Then he stopped talking to me. He wouldn’t take my phone calls, and he avoided me like I had a disease. So I stopped trying. And then I started hating him.”
“Hate is a very strong word, Meghan,” Mom chastised.
“Okay, I began to strongly dislike him then,” I amended.
Mom didn’t say anything.
“You ready to go in?” I asked her, feeling itchy and restless. I really needed a glass of wine.
“I wish you had told me when it happened,” Mom said finally. “I would have done something. Told Marion—”
“And that right there, is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want our bullshit to make things weird between you and Marion.”
She tutted again. “Don’t be preposterous. Marion and I have weathered greater storms than our kids having a falling out.” She turned to look at me, taking my hand in hers. “But I’m your Mom; I’ll always have your back first and foremost. You should know that about me. And that was a nasty thing Adam did to you. And he deserved a pop in the mouth if you ask me.”
I couldn’t help laughing because I could picture my mom letting Adam have it. “You’re telling me.”
“I’ll admit, I was shocked when he took up with Chelsea Sloane considering how he was with you.”
I frowned. Things just took a left turn into the Twilight Zone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mom pursed her lips. “For such an intelligent girl, you can be so oblivious sometimes. That boy was crazy about you. Had been since he was old enough to realize you were a girl.”
I snorted, giving my mom the you-be-cray-cray look. “That’s got to be senility talking. Can you still smell the lavender, Mom?”
Mom waved away my comment in irritation. “You always have had your head up your own bum.”
“Mom!” I gaped, surprised but kind of appreciative of her outburst. I got my fire honestly.
“Well, it’s true,” Mom went on. “He followed you around like a lost puppy for years, waiting. Hoping. I could see it. Dad could see it. His parents could see it. We all thought it was only a matter of time. Secretly, Marion and I had your wedding all planned out.”
I groaned. “Good God, Mom. That’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard.”
Her eyes zeroed in on mine. “Is it? Because we all saw how much Adam loved you, even if you didn’t.”
I wouldn’t let myself believe her. It was so out there. I would have known had Adam felt that way about me. And if he had, why had he chosen Chelsea?
“It doesn’t change the fact that he chose Chelsea freaking Sloane, does it?” I sounded angry. I wished I could be more apathetic, but the wound was weeping now.
“No, it doesn’t, I suppose.” She squeezed my hand. “But that was ten years ago. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”
And there was the sticking point. It was ten years ago. A lifetime to some.A blink of an eye to others. I fell into the latter category. For me, the heartache and betrayal felt as raw as if it had happened yesterday.
Too much time…too much damage.
“He married her, though,” I added sullenly. I hated how childish I sounded. This wasn’t about the wounded ego. It wasn’t about Chelsea getting something I wanted. This was about being shoved aside by the one person I had trusted most with my heart. The person who I would never have guessed could turn on me so coldly.
That was why I was stuck.
Because if I could misjudge the boy I had known all my life, how could I have faith in my ability to judge anyone?
“And he’s divorcing her now. It takes some people a bit longer to own up to their mistakes,” Mom countered as if that mattered. As if it undid everything else.
I shook my head. “What’s done is done. We’re different people now—”
“I don’t know about that, Meghan. Tonight, I saw two people who still circled each other like they were meant to be in each other’s orbit.”
I snorted at her saccharine romanticism. “Okay, Mom. Sure.” I rolled my eyes.
Mom patted my cheek, cradling my face for a moment. “Life is short, my darling. Don’t waste time on unnecessary anger. Particularly when it gets in the way of your happiness.”
“I’m perfectly happy, Mom,” I argued, hearing how hollow the words sounded.
Mom didn’t respond. She gave me a final pat and then got out of the car.
I couldn’t settle after that. I kept thinking about my evening at the Ducates. And the conversation with Mom in the car. I disregarded most of it as my mother’s whimsical delusions. But it still bothered me.
