Mother’s hostile eyes narrow on my face. Her hands clench into slim, beringed fists.
“You have no idea what my marriage is, what your father and I have.”
“Don’t you think I got an inkling when I caught him fucking a girl my age in our house? In your bed, and you did nothing but get drunk and cry about it?”
“How dare you.” Mother snaps to her feet. “I came here to help you.”
“Help yourself, Mother.” I stand, too, needing to be on level ground with her. “Do you know how much time I wasted trying to please you? Trying to be you? Trying not to be you? You were such a contradiction, I wasn’t sure if I should emulate you or eradicate you from my nature.”
“Only you can’t, can you?” Her eyes are solemn. “You think I wanted to fall in love with a man who cared so little for my feelings?”
Her bitter laugh echoes in the empty living room.
“It doesn’t pay to love, Bristol. I had hoped you learned that lesson from me with your father. With your brother.”
“Is that what happened?” I blink against tears that have nothing to do with Parker and everything to do with my mother standing in front of me telling me not to love. “You gave all your love to them and there was none left for me? They were worth the risk and I wasn’t?”
“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Mother frowns but takes her seat again by the Celine bag. “I guided you as much as you would let me.”
“I didn’t want to be guided, Mother. I wanted to be loved, but there was always a distance. You would only allow me so close.”
“That was for your own good. You were already too much like me.”
“It doesn’t have to be a weakness, you know,” I say softly. “With the right people, with the right man, love rewards hearts like ours.”
“Oh, so it’s strength that has you ready to fuck Charles Parker?” Mother asks, the crudity so at odds with her refined appearance. “Is that your reward?”
“No, Grip is my reward,” I volley back without hesitation. “For him, I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
I look down at my bare feet sunken into the plush rug covering my hardwoods.
“I love him. He loves me. You do crazy things for the ones you love sometimes. You accept things you thought you never would. You know that better than most.”
Mother studies me appraisingly for a few moments before speaking.
“I do know.” She twists her wedding band. “It’s liberating knowing there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him, to keep him. And it can also be a dark lonely trap, with love as your prison cell.”
“Not for me,” I say softly. “Not with Grip. It’s taken me years to realize that I’m like you, but I’m not you. And Grip is nothing like my father. I almost lost him running away from this kind of love, but it’s giving me the strength to do what has to be done.”
“Let me tell you something about your father, Bristol.” Usually I’m not even sure if my mother is breathing she’s so serene, but today she draws a deep breath. “I don’t talk about my marriage. Not with anyone.”
This I know. I fasten my eyes to her lips like I might miss some- thing and need to catch every word.
“I know what you saw that day.” She looks down at her lap and licks her lips, the only sign of discomfort she allows. “It wasn’t the first time, and I wish I could say it was the last. Do you remember when your father had his heart attack?”
I nod. We thought he would die. It was the impetus for Rhyson and my father to start repairing their relationship.
“I said I was away on a business trip,” Mother says. “But I was actually leaving your father.”
Mind. Blown.
And like a child the only thing I can think is I can’t wait to tell Rhyson.
“Yes.” She nods, a regal movement that barely disturbs her hair. “I’d had enough, and thought I could finally do it. I could leave him. I could not love him just enough to go.”
My cottage is quiet, like even the furnishings, the walls, the bulbs hold the same bated breath as I do waiting for her next words.
“When I got the call that he’d had the heart attack.” Mother pinches her lips together and blinks rapidly. “I knew I’d never leave him. It was like fate or some force didn’t want me to go.”