Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“Mom!” I half laugh. “I thought you liked him?”
“I did. Clearly, I thought he was better than he really is, dear. Now, eat.” Mom hands me a fork, gesturing to the pie on my plate. “When I first found out about you guys, I thought he’d be a good match. I let Blackthorn money dazzle me. Never again.”
“Yeah,” I agree sadly.
“So let’s just eat some pie and forget his stupid lying face for a few minutes. And I want you to remember it’s never your responsibility to save a man from himself. You offered to help and he still walked out, didn’t he?”
There’s old resentment in her voice. Everything that happened with her and Dad burbling up through years of hardened pain.
I smile weakly and dig into my pie. It’s so good and fresh it distracts me for about five seconds.
“It’s not quite that simple, Mom. Ethan, he was shocked out of his skin. He found out his whole family lied to him.”
“Well, I don’t know much about that drama, but the way he’s handling them, that’s his choice,” she says firmly. “There’s no denying he’s a tortured soul. Perhaps through no fault of his own. Still, you shouldn’t be dragged along on his train of suffering. I’m proud you have a backbone, Hattie. That’s a lesson I learned too late.”
“Oh, Mom.”
We quietly stuff our mouths with blueberry heaven.
I don’t dare tell her I’d let Ethan drag me through a hundred miles of absolute horror if it meant he’d apologize.
If it would bust open the vault around his damaged black heart and show me he feels something for me.
If he has to suffer and upend his life, I’d rather do it together, right by his side.
But there’s no point in outing childish fantasies.
I may dream a lot, but I’m too old to be a daydream believer.
This is real life, not a romance novel.
Ethan isn’t riding back on a white horse to throw himself down at my feet and gush out his sappy, secretly obsessed-with-me heart.
I don’t mind Mom being weirdly nice and supportive, though. Or watching her inhale blueberry pie like a desert dweller who hasn’t seen a drop of water for months.
I guess years of hardcore sugar denial and kale juice gutrot finally caught up with her.
And yeah, she bought it instead of making it, but it clearly came from a real bakery.
That’s worth indulging this mother-daughter moment.
Despite my shattered heart rattling in my ribs, I smile.
If my breakup with Ethan fixes the relationship with Mom, that’s something.
“Never settle for anything less than the one who’ll treat you right. You deserve a man who will love you and stick by you through anything, no matter how awful,” Mom says sagely. “Even if you don’t run a marathon or—or if you don’t want him inflicting his snotty billionaire money problems on you.” She says the last part with healthy bitterness.
Obviously, she wishes I was going to be a billionaire’s wife.
That makes two of us.
“Thanks for coming today,” I say. “For real.”
“Oh, honey.” She reaches over and I take her hand, feeling her squeeze. “I know I haven’t always been the best at that. I haven’t always had the clearest head… But I always loved you. I just want the best and I want to see you happy.”
“I know you do, Mom. It’s just—my best isn’t always yours.”
“And I should’ve realized that sooner, sweet girl. Thanks for the reality check.”
This is going too well.
I nod and give her a weak smile.
Having her love bolsters me in a way I wouldn’t want to admit a few weeks ago. I suppose every girl just wants their mother to love and accept them deep down.
The thing that’s harder is taking her advice.
Maybe she’s right and I do deserve better, but if that’s the case, why didn’t Ethan, who saw all of me, realize that?
Why couldn’t he want me when it mattered most?
Why wouldn’t he stay and fight?
And why can’t I get his flipping face out of my head?
“Want to watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” Mom suggests brightly. It’s her favorite Hepburn movie, and it takes me back to being a kid.
Audrey Hepburn won’t fix my life. Especially when I think Mom wanted me to be more like her growing up—including unhealthy Hollywood thin—but I accept the offer and get up to fetch us more pie before we regroup on the couch.
She doesn’t comment on the piles of books or the second serving. She doesn’t tell me all the ways I could handle this better or healthier.
She just opens her arm for me to snuggle into her side, and she picks up the remote and turns on the TV.
Someday, I could see this becoming the new norm, and that’s awesome.
I just wonder when I’ll stop missing Ethan so fiercely, even though our entire relationship was an illusion.