"You didn't raise me to deal with this kind of thing, Ma," I say, my voice somewhere between accusation and confession.
She blinks and something shifts in her face—her anger folding inward, turning quieter, sharper. "You'reblamingme?"
"No—yes—I..." I bite the words out, frustrated, stumbling over the truth like broken glass. "I'm saying... maybe if you hadn't always shielded me from everything, I'd know how to handle this. I've never had to deal with this before, with any of this. You're healthy, dad is healthy, everyone in our family is healthy and cancer-free, and I just... I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to act... I don't know how to be the man Sophie needs right now."
She stares at me for a long, frozen moment, her expression unreadable, then slowly shakes her head.
"I'm so sorry, Paul."
I frown in confusion, my brain scrambling to catch up. "What?"
"You're right. This is my fault," she nods.
Her tone is quiet and even. Scary calm. "I didn't realize that beingblessedas a family—and not having to deal with one of our own getting cancer—would be sodetrimentalto you."
My stomach plummets straight to the floor. "Ma..."
"Ofcourseyou had to cheat on your fiancée," she continues, as if spelling it out will make me sound any more rational. "It makesperfectsense."
"That's not what I meant," I try to defend myself, the words keep getting scrambled, and I feel like I'm grasping at air. "I—"
She raises a hand to silence me.
"I'm so disappointed in you, Paul," she whispers. The words hit me like a sledgehammer right to my chest.
But she's not done.
"But you know something else?" she asks me, her voice tightening."I'm so,sodisappointed inmyself. I raised a man who betrays the love of his life in the cruelest way imaginable. I raised a man who left the love of his life when she needed him the most—for what? A man who trades true, deep love for momentary, fleeting comfort. You shortsighted, immature little boy. You..."
She trails off, her voice crumbling and two tears silently track down her cheeks.
"I can't look at you right now, Paul. Get out of my sight," she whispers, her voice low and frayed, not angry anymore—just defeated.
???
Elise's apartment is sleek, in a newer building, and definitely more expensive than my apartment with Sophie. It smells like rose-scented candles and red wine, not the marshmallow, lemon cleaner scent I'm used to.
I drove aimlessly for an hour after leaving my parents' house, thankfully remembering to quickly grab my duffel bag before I left the house.
I don't know if my mom meant for me to get outfor noworforever,but I couldn't stand to see the look on her face anymore.
So I left, wandered, and finally texted Elise.
"You look like hell," she comments with an amused grin, dressed in a red silk robe and walking backward to guide me to her bedroom. Not like I haven't been here before.
Her roommate, Rhea, must be out. That was one of the reasons we usually fucked at hotels—discretion.
Now that I've decimated my engagement, there's no need to sneak around anymore, no need to worry about rumors making their way back to Sophie or my parents.
I press Elise against the bedroom door and kiss her hard.
For a second, it feels... almost nice. The warmth. The absence of judgment. The freedom to do this, to fuck her against the door, feeling something besides this shame.
For the last two months, I would feel something in my bodyunclenchafter having sex with Elise. Not just a release of sexual frustration, this was something deeper.Honestly, that's what I chased more than the orgasm—that feeling. It doesn't come this time.
We lay tangled in Elise's bed after, the silk sheets are too cold, toowrong. She traces my chest with a finger,and I resist the urge to shove it away.
"Did it go that badly with your mom?"
