“Lila…” Her voice cracked, and she grabbed her napkin with shaky fingers. “How long?”
I shifted on my seat and looked down at the scuffed table. “It started when I came back to help him pack up the house. We fought it. Tried to stop it. But in the end, we couldn’t. We didn’t want to.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing shallow. When she opened them, they were wet. “He was married to me. He was supposed to be… a father figure to you.”
“He was never that to me, Mom. Never a father figure in any capacity. You know that.” My throat burned, and she nodded, agreeing with me. “I know how wrong it looks. How it must feel to you.”
She reached across the table and took both my hands in hers. Her hold was tight, as if she were anchoring herself. “Are you safe? Does he treat you with respect?” She exhaled shakily. “Does he ever make you feel pressured?”
“No,” I said quickly. “God, no. Never. He’s gentle with me. Patient. He listens and makes me feel… safe, seen. Loved.”
She searched my face for a long time. “You’re twenty-three. He’s… he’s old enough to be your father. The power imbalance. The history. People will talk.” She let go of my hand and scrubbed her face. She looked so tired then. “They’ll judge. They’ll say terrible things. Are you ready for that?”
“I’m scared of it,” I admitted. “But I’m more scared of losing him. Of pretending I don’t feel what’s between us.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I feel like I failed you somehow. Like I should have seen this coming. Protected you better.”
“There was nothing to protect. Nothing happened until I came back home after graduating college.. I never ever thought of Marcus in that way. This wasn’t planned, and you did nothing wrong. It just… happened,” I whispered. “This isn’t because of you. It’s because of us. Because of who we are together.”
She took my hands again and squeezed them harder. “I want to be angry. I want to tell you that this is not a good idea. But I look at you right now, and I see you’re… happy. You wouldn’t have brought this up to me if it wasn’t important to you.” She exhaled shakily.
She stood, walked around the table, and pulled me into her arms. It was tight and fierce and so very maternal. And all I could do was close my eyes, smile, and exhale a breath of relief.
“I love you,” she whispered. “More than anything in this world. And I’m going to try to understand this, but it’s going to take time. I’m not okay with it yet. But I love you enough to try.”
We sat back down, both teary, and finished our coffee quietly. She asked a few more careful questions about how he treated me day-to-day, if I felt equal in the relationship, if I was protecting my heart.
And I answered honestly. When we hugged goodbye, she held on longer than usual.
“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” she said.
“Never, Mom.”
I watched her go, heart aching and full at the same time.
She didn’t wholly approve. Not yet and maybe not ever completely. But she loved me enough to try.
And that was more than I’d dared hope for.
Chapter Thirteen
Lila
Ayear later, so much had changed.
The old house was sold, and Marcus and I had moved into the place on the five acres.
It was half an hour north, which was far enough from small-town whispers to consume us but close enough that I could still see my mom, friends, and commute to work.
We’d know the three-bedroom, cottage-style fixer-upper would be worn, but we hadn’t expected it to be a total redo.
But in hindsight, I was glad it was because it gave us the chance to build it the way we wanted and make it wholly our own.
Even after only being at the marketing firm for half a year, I’d been promoted and was in charge of leading small campaigns now and pitching concepts that actually got approved.
I came home most nights with sketches in my bag and stories about all the new ideas I had. And Marcus listened as if every detail mattered.
He had cut back on his hours, not just because we’d had so much work on the new house but because he wanted to be home with me every night when I got back.
