Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
My gaze sharpens on her, wanting to see every emotion that flickers across her face. A heavy silence blankets us as she averts her attention. The seconds that tick by are excruciating.
“Actually,” she says, clearing her throat, “I was out on a date.”
Even though it’s been a little more than a decade since Dad died, a pang fills my heart. This is the first time she’s mentioned going out with a man. There’s always been too much going on and we were just trying to scrape by.
“Anyone I know?” I ask, forcing myself to remain calm.
“We’re not ready to go public quite yet.”
“Why not?” The small pit at the bottom of my belly grows until it’s more of an unpleasant lump.
“It’s a little complicated at the moment.”
It would be all too easy to drop this awkward conversation, but I refuse to give in to the urge. I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the door frame. “What makes the situation difficult?”
Her eyes search mine before she forces out a brittle laugh that sounds nothing like her. “What’s with all the questions? I’m a forty-year-old woman and entitled to my own life.”
Air seeps from my lungs as my shoulders collapse. All Mom has done since Dad died is take care of me. There have been times when she’s worked two jobs just to make sure I had everything I needed for school. When I decided to take up photography, she picked up a part-time job watching a neighbor’s kid so she could buy me a brand-new digital camera.
The last decade hasn’t been easy, and I’m the first one to admit that if anyone deserves to carve out a little piece of happiness for themselves, it’s my mother.
“Of course I know that,” I murmur. “I’m just surprised you haven’t mentioned it before.”
She tucks a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear before releasing a breath. “I guess, in the beginning, I wasn’t sure where it would lead, but now…” Her voice trails off, as if she’s not quite sure how to explain herself.
When the silence continues to stretch, I prompt, “Are you saying this relationship is serious?”
“I think it might be.”
I tilt my head, just wanting her to admit the truth so we can get it out in the open and talk about it. “But you won’t tell me who this man is?”
“For the time being, it’s not important.”
My brows pinch as I shake my head. “I don’t understand. If you like him and he feels the same, why does he have to remain a mystery?”
She purses her lips. “He’s a very private person.”
What’s become obvious is that she isn’t going to reveal his name. And maybe if I didn’t already know, I’d let it go. But how can I do that?
I hate forcing the issue but don’t see any other choice. “I stopped by the copy room during lunch the other day.”
Confusion morphs across her features at the abrupt change in topic. “Oh? I don’t remember seeing you. Wasn’t I there?”
“No, you were.” A beat of silence falls over us before I add, “Mr. Pembroke was in the room with you.”
Her eyes widen as shock flashes in her eyes before it’s quickly shuttered away. “The man is my boss. If I remember correctly, he stopped by with some papers that needed to be copied.”
Disappointment swirls through me that she’s lying. It’s the first time I’ve felt this emotion where my mom is concerned. In fact, I’ve always been proud of her for keeping everything together after Dad died. She’s the strongest woman I know.
“You were wrapped up in his arms and he was kissing you.”
Her face turns ashen as she says in a clipped tone, “You’re mistaken.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “No, I’m not. The door was partially closed and when I pushed it open, I saw the two of you embracing. Stop lying. I know what I saw.”
This conversation feels surreal. Have I ever spoken to my mother like this?
We stare silently for a handful of seconds before her shoulders slump and remorse fills her eyes.
“How long has this been going on for?”
A couple of weeks?
Months?
It can’t be more than that.
With any luck, I’ll be able to talk some sense into her before it goes any further.
“Two years.”
I can only stare as if she’s speaking a foreign language.
There’s no way I heard her correctly.
Years?
My mouth crashes open as I gape.
“But he’s married.” The man is married with kids. Two of them attend Hawthorne Prep. The boy is a junior, and the girl is a freshman. I see both around school.
“I know,” she admits quietly.
“Then why are you with him?” My voice escalates with each grounded-out syllable.
Years.
The word won’t stop echoing throughout my head.
She jerks her shoulders defensively. “It’s not like we planned for this to happen. We started talking at school, getting to know one another on a more personal level, and after a while, it led to more.” Her expression turns earnest. “His wife doesn’t understand him, honey. She doesn’t get him the way I do.”