“What do you mean?”
I bit my lip. It was hard talking about Mama. The older three’s bitterness toward her was much more palpable given the fact that they had all been asked, to varying degrees, to step in when she failed. At fourteen, Matthew had essentially raised all of us with our grandparents. I didn’t think he would ever forgive her for that. Lea and Kate were trying more these days to mend things, but it was slow going.
For us youngers, it was the life without a mother, despite knowing she was alive, that tended to hurt more than the loss of my father. I was only five when the accident happened, so I still remembered my dad. I could see him a lot like Matthew—tall and slim, with dark hair and a daring grin when he was sober and a mean frown and a loud shout when he wasn’t. Joni and Marie didn’t remember him at all, though they did recall begging Mama to stay if and when she visited Nonna’s. We all did. But she always left.
It was even harder to understand that now that I had a child of my own. Leaving Sofia…I couldn’t fathom it.
“She left,” I said shortly. “Right after the accident.”
“Car wreck, right?”
I nodded. “Good memory. Yeah, um. They were both drunk. But Mama was the one driving.”
“And so, what? Your mum just up and leaves her babies after they lose their dad?”
I shrugged. “That’s about the gist of it. Kind of harsh, though.”
A low, long mumble slipped out of Xavier’s throat.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I said not as harsh as abandoning your kids.” He shook his head. “You were better off without her.”
I didn’t know why, but his quick judgment bothered me more than the story itself.
“You don’t know her,” I said. “You have no idea.”
“I know if you’re not prepared to do the hard work of parenting, you shouldn’t become one in the first place,” he said flatly. “Nothing fucks a kid up more than an absent parent. Tell me that’s not true.”
I thought about it and found I couldn’t. I still remembered the confusion. Wondering why she left us with our grandparents. Why she hardly ever visited.
Why we weren’t enough for her to try. To stay. To be better.
Xavier and I stared at each other for a long time, his blue eyes glimmering at my green.
“And you,” he said in a way that made my heart thump above the traffic rushing by the window. “How could anyone in her right mind leave someone like you?”
I swallowed, tears pricking my eyes.
“You did,” I said, though I knew it was unfair. “Maybe you should ask yourself.”
“I was a fucking idiot,” he said solemnly, no sign of jest in his voice or expression.
His lashes dropped, gaze pinned to my mouth. I knew what he wanted. And I couldn’t lie. I wanted it too. I remembered all too well what magic that mouth could create.
But before he could make a move, we were interrupted by the distinct clip-clop of horse hooves coming down the side of the road. A white horse-drawn carriage with red velvet bench seating, the kind that looked like it had rolled right out of a fairy tale.
Xavier examined it with curiosity. “Ahh. I wondered if one of those might show up. You want to go?”
I snorted. “Only tourists use those.”
“I am a tourist. For now, anyway.”
Before I could ask exactly what he meant by that, he slapped a few bills onto the bar, jumped up, and pulled me along with him out of the restaurant. He whistled toward the carriage driver while I pulled my coat back on.
“Oi! Mate! Can we get a lift?”
The carriage stopped, and the driver turned around, wearing a dour expression. “I have to stay in the park limits, south only. I’m on my way home.”