“It’s not dramatic to be upset over my daughter hiding from me when she finally came back home!”
“It is when you make it your entire personality for three days.”
My hair is half-up in a messy bun as I finish curling the bottom strands. It’s going to get smushed by my hat the moment I put it on, but fuck it. If I’m going to get dragged out tonight to make an official reappearance in this province, then I’m going to at least look semi-hot while doing it.
“Well, I’m so sorry for being an empath.”
“That’s not what an empath is.”
Mom’s green eyes roll into the back of her skull. “Okay, Google.”
“You’re being ridiculous. I wasn’t trying to hide from you. It was just a lot for me that day without adding you into the mix,” I say, trying to soften my tone.
Meeting her gaze in the mirror, I lift the corner of my mouth into a smile. She exhales immediately, relaxing as her hand falls to my shoulder, squeezing.
“I just missed you, my sweet girl. You’ve been gone for too long. I’m a worrier.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Mom steps into the bathroom behind me and takes a chunk of hair into her hands. She gently pries my hands off the curling iron and uses it to fix the piece she found.
“There are so many questions I want to ask you.”
“I’m not going to tell you not to ask them.”
Her peachy lips twist. “But will you answer them?”
“A few, at least.”
“What happened? I assume it was Ethan’s fault,” she says bitterly.
I laugh, letting her continue to recurl the pieces of hair that I know are already perfect. “Everyone says that as if I’m the easiest person in the world to put up with.”
“He knew what he was signing up for. If he had an issue with your personality, he wouldn’t have married you. However, I fear it made him feel self-conscious knowing he scored above what he deserved when he found you.”
“Self-conscious? I don’t understand men. They know they don’t deserve you yet still treat you like shit and cheat, for what?” I bite out.
The heat from the iron retreats when Mom points it at the mirror, her attention fixed solely on my reflection now. And shit, her cheeks are turning red?—
“That piece of shit did what?”
“Put the iron down, Mom,” I mutter. “He’s not here for you to burn.”
“When did this happen, Tilly?”
I huff a breath and pull my bun out so the rest of my hair falls over the curls. “A few months ago. It’s fine.I’m fine.”
“Months ago? And I’m only hearing about it now?” The pain that flashes across her features is hard to see. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I’d have been on a flight out there to see you.”
“I know you would have, and it’s the reason I didn’t. Hearing an ‘I told you so’ or that you knew it wouldn’t have worked isn’t what I needed at the time. I had to figure things out on my own.”
She shakes her head, busying herself with the messy strands of hair I just let loose. “You don’t need to be so independent all the time.”
“What’s the alternative? Staying heartbroken until someone else can fix me?”
“Well, no. I just mean that having support from those who love you can go a long way.”
“I knew you’d support me if I asked you to.”
