“I’m not in denial. I know my limits,” I insist. “We’ve had attacks before, but this is sidelining me more than I’d like.” I fall into step with her. “Maybe I’m getting cabin fever.”
We stop on the edge of the water, watching Adam in the distance, making his way back, breaking his trajectory with a loop or sharp turns. He still chases the fun in everything he does, and it’s so adorable in a way I don’t want to consider.
“Blanca was thrilled to see you,” my mother says lightly. “She told me they’re planning to visit again next week.”
“Not that it wasn’t fun to have her around and spend some time together,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “But why would you tell her where I am?”
Mom reels back, one hand flying to her chest. “She’s practically family.”
“She isn’t, though.” My tone is firmer now. “There’s a reason we have security protocols. I’m not here on vacation. I’m hiding, Mom.”
“Oh?” She arches a brow. “But Adam gets to know?”
My gaze shifts over the surface of the clear lake. “That’s different…”
The muffled hum of the motorboat grows louder as Adam nears, shirt unbuttoned, tanned chest on full display. His attention settles on me, lingering a moment too long.
“How’s that going?” my mom asks, without masking her interest.
“As bad as expected.” It’s been awkward, even with the truce. After years of hostility, what is there left between us?
She hums, deep in thought. “How peculiar.” Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. “Remember when you sent me to the house? For the box of pictures?”
“Yeah…”
“Adam was there. Drunk, sitting on the steps,” she says evenly, but her words shift the ground under me.
My lungs seize. My thoughts trip over each other.
“I invited him in and we had a chat over some tea. He was a blubbering mess,” she tuts sympathetically.
“What…” I struggle not to let my voice waver. “What did he want?”
Mom looks over the now-still water nearly wistfully. “To know why you’d disappeared on him. The neighbors told me he’d been coming there every day.”
My throat is dry. “You never thought of telling me this before?”
“Would it have made a difference? You were so adamant that you wanted to leave. I wanted to support you.”
The question guts me. I remember the first doubts after I got settled. Wondering if I made the right choice. If I should’ve given him a chance to deny everything.
“Maybe this is something you should ask him yourself.”
She always managed to fill in the blanks when I told her almost nothing about my feelings for Adam. “Whose side are you on?”
Mom takes my hand, her lips pulled into a warm smile. “Yours. Always yours. That’s why I’m telling you.”
“It was such a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.” The knot in my throat is painful. “It’s not like I can change the past.”
“No.” Her voice carries the weight of a lifetime of compromises. “But the future is yours. And you get to choose who will join you along the way.”
Her words echo long after she leaves to visit her brother at the farm, refusing to fade. They urge me to dig deep, searching for an answer to a new question I hardly dare voice.
After I sigh for the fifth time, Eliza slaps her knees and springs off the couch, planting herself in front of me with a determined glint in her eye. I’m still curled in the corner, reading the same paragraph for the hundredth time.
“Want to help me with a project?” she says cheerfully. “I found a wooden trunk that needs a good scrub and a few little flowers painted on it.”
Her plan is as transparent as every naked dress at the Oscars this year. “You know I’m no talent. I’ll ruin your project.”
