“You were afraid I’d say yes and then regret it.”
His expression turned sheepish. “Maybe a little.”
“Because I couldn’t stand up to my mom.”
“You’re not big on confrontation.”
That understatement made her laugh. “You think?” She flung her arms around him. “You and me, mister. For always.”
“You got that right.”
Ava looked at the woman sitting across from her in her office at the foundation. Cindy had a fresh tan and looked rested, but there was still a hint of sadness in her eyes.
“How are you doing?” Ava asked, careful to keep her voice kind. After all, she’d been the one to shatter her friend’s heart, or at least give her the information that had done the shattering.
“I’m better.” Cindy smiled at her. “Mostly. My emotions are still all over the place. One second I can’t believe Shannon didn’t tell me about the engagement, the next I’m furious at her for being so selfish and hurting me, which is immediately followed by me wondering why she felt she had to keep the secret. It’s exhausting.”
“Despite all that, you look good.”
Cindy laughed. “Thanks. Luis and I went to Las Vegas for a few days. It’s not a traditional lick-your-wounds kind of place, but we stayed in a beautiful suite, saw a couple of shows and hung out by the pool. I’m not a gambler, so while he indulged at the tables, I had several spa treatments.”
“That all sounds nice. He’s a good, good man. I’m glad you found each other.”
“Me, too.” Cindy sighed. “Do you know why she didn’t tell me?”
“She said she didn’t want to take away the spotlight from you and Luis being engaged.” Ava softened her tone. “She didn’t tell me, Cindy. It wasn’t a moment of confiding. I was asking about her and Aaron, and she blurted it out. From the look on her face, she was as surprised as I was, then she asked me to keep it quiet.”
“But you told me.”
“You’re my friend. I felt you should know.” Ava thought about all Cindy was going through. “Maybe I made a mistake in that.”
“No, I needed the information. Luis and I talked a lot about what happened. He says—” she cleared her throat “—he thinks I’m overly involved in Shannon’s life. That I swoop in and fix everything.”
Ava was determined not to say the wrong thing. “What do you think?”
“That he might be right. You and I have talked about how I monitored every part of her life. Maybe she was afraid I’d take over the wedding or something.” Cindy’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. “I know I wouldn’t, but maybe she’s less sure.”
“Your daughter loves you. She has to be feeling awful about how she hurt you.”
“That’s what I tell myself. I always hated when I made my mom cry. It’s the worst feeling.”
Ava couldn’t relate. The nannies who’d raised her, well, they hadn’t been her family. Her only way to relate was when she’d hurt Victoria by showing Shannon the memory box. She’d been sick with guilt. Just as awful, Milton had been disappointed in her. Something she never wanted to have happen again.
“I think one of the hardest parts about having adult children is realizing we don’t know them as well as we think,” she said slowly. “When they’re little, we can practically read their minds, but then they become adults and suddenly they’re able to keep secrets. It’s disconcerting.”
“It is. I miss what it was like when Shannon was younger.” Cindy smiled. “I’d dress us alike more than I probably should, but it was so fun. We were a team.”
“Victoria and I were never that, but I understood her. Milton gave me her screenplay to read.”
Cindy’s eyes widened. “What did you think?”
“She’s talented. Funny with an excellent grasp of character. The plot needs work, but it’s an amazing first draft. I know she’s farther along in the story now, and I can’t wait to read it.” She smiled. “It’s autobiographical, as many first works are, telling the story of her first location romance.”
She thought about the stark pain on the page, concealed bywitty banter and an engaging setting. “She had her heart broken, and we never talked about it. I knew she’d been going out with one of the actors and the relationship had ended but not the details. At the time I thought she’d been the one to dump him, but it was the other way around. She never told me.”
The pain of that reality cut through her. “I knew after the fact because Milton had read the screenplay and mentioned it, but it’s not as if she came to me for help.”
Cindy reached across the table and touched her arm. “Not just you,” she said gently. “She didn’t tell her dad when it happened either. If she had, he would have said something at the time.”
