I listen intently, making sure Cynthia knows I’m taking mental notes about how to care for her son.
Eventually, she leans back in her seat with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m talking too much. I’m sorry.” She waves her hands in the air. “I just…For some reason, I just really don’t want you to think that I’m a bad mom.”
I blink in surprise. “I don’t think that you’re a bad mom.”
“Well, I mean, from the outside, it sort of looks like I just shipped my son off with his father and moved on with my life. That’s not what this is at all.”
My head wags from left to right. “That’s not what it seems like. You just need a hand. That’s fair. Parenting seems like a ton of work. No one should have to shoulder all that weight by themselves.”
Her heavy sigh makes her shoulders drop. “It’s just that, sometimes, people don’t seem to understand that mothers are human. Just like everybody else. We’re expected to do it all. Be that volunteer super mom. Have a successful career. But don’t work so hard that you can’t still also be the primary parent. Oh, and you’d better do it all in heels with a smile on your face. Gotta earn that MILF title, after all.”
I chuckle softly, feeling Cynthia’s pain in a way I didn’t expect. I’m not a mother. Until now, I never even consideredbecoming one. Yet somehow, I find myself trying to stand in her shoes and make sense of all that she’s going through.
Wearing a bittersweet smile, Cynthia runs her hands through her hair, yanking on the roots. “But right now, despite how much I want to, my body and my mind just won’t let me do it all. And that has no reflection on how much I love my son.”
I reach over and place my hand over hers.
While I may not know first hand the pressures Cynthia is facing right now, I do understand the exhausting expectations society places on women. I can only imagine she feels it tenfold as a mom.
“This all reminds me of my own mother’s situation,” I hear myself confessing. “She was a single mom. No matter how much she had to deal with in those early years, I always knew that she loved me with her whole heart. She was far from perfect, but she still made sure I was taken care of.”
“I want Cameron to understand that. I want him to know that I’m doing my best,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I didn’t give up on him. I’m just…doing my best.”
“He is such an incredible kid,” I tell her again, “and that’s all a testament to you and Lincoln. I’m honored to step in and help where I can, but I want to assure you that I will never try to take your place. Cameron loves you so, so much.”
“Shit—I’m crying,” Cynthia croaks.
I snort, trying to blink away tears of my own. “Lady, we’re both crying.”
“Thank you, Jules.”
Gosh—my upcoming marriage is supposed to be fake. But the lines are getting more and more blurry here. The hearts involved are real.
Cynthia wipes her eyes and leans over the table, and I come in to meet her for a clumsy hug over our empty plates and dirty silverware.
By the time we pull away, our tears have turned into laughter, and it’s clear that we’re making a scene. Tammy’s standing by the cash register, shamelessly looking at us, and I know that the small town gossip will be running wild by tomorrow.
But suddenly, I don’t care.
There’s a little boy who’s depending on me to be a stable adult in his life. And I’d never forgive myself if I let him down.
25
JULES
When I step into the house, quietly closing the front door, nothing but darkness awaits me.
I’m about to peel off my jacket and hang it on the coat rack when Lincoln appears in the entryway to the living room, all tense and apprehensive and gorgeous.
“Hey…” he says in a whisper, bracing one muscular arm on the doorframe.
My eyes do an involuntary sweep down his body. His necktie is gone. His shirt is halfway unbuttoned. His sleeves are rolled back to his elbows. His hair shows signs that he’s spent the last few hours yanking on it with anxious fingers.
My god—who gave this man permission to look so darn good?
“Hey…” I reply coolly, an expert at sounding unaffected.
“How was dinner with Cynthia?” he questions, a worried crease on his brow.
