Without a word, she concentrated on folding the newspaper with more attention than it necessitated. Done, she crossed her hand hands on the table and looked at me. I attempted a smile, but it was a clear waste of time. She saw right through me. Her next words indicated as much.
“What seems to be the matter, Drake?”
“Nothing.”
It was weird that even as a father of two adult kids, I was hard-pressed against hurting my folks. Tamara was right. I was a coward for not speaking up for the happiness I deserved. My father was a hardcore bastard in his day and what he said was law. Surprisingly, I made sure he had no impact on Rayden’s upbringing. I wanted my son to enjoy the freedom of meeting a woman and falling in love like I couldn’t.
“Drake?” she dragged me out my musings.
“Sorry about the cup, mom.” I tried deflecting the speech I knew was coming.
“I don’t care about the cup, son. I’m concerned about you.” She sighed. “You hardly come home. You spend your weekends in the city working until odd hours of the mornings. Are you and Angela having problems?”
Her observation was uncanny. I glanced away and stared out the large bay windows to the scatter of snow falling at a lazy pace with no care in the world. If I said anything now, it would hurt her—something I didn’t want. “No,” I muttered at length, toying with the handle of my broken cup.
“You never could lie to me, darling,” her soft words drew my gaze back to her face. She studied me in that perceptive way she always used to get me to open up, her calm expression framed by silver hair that curled just below her ear. “No matter how hard you tried, I always cottoned on to your lies.” She offered me a small smile. “So, why don’t you be like the good son you are and tell me what’s wrong?”
Running a hand through my wet hair, I studied her pensive features for a moment. What was it with mothers? They could always sense when their kids were in pain. The same, however, could not be said for my wife. “I swear, mom, nothing’s wrong.”
Her persistent gray eyes roamed my face, searching for answers. “Don’t lie, Drake. If your comment about being sucked into a relationship isn’t an indication of a problem, why mention it?” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “It isn’t good to bottle those feelings, darling. So, out with it,” she pushed.
I leaned back in my chair with a sigh. “Yes. Angela and I are having problems, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“You’re no longer compatible?”
I rested both elbows on the table and steepled my fingers. “I’m afraid it’s much more than that. Frankly, I don’t know what to do. Divorce will kill dad.” I blurted out the last part expecting her shock.
Instead, she smiled. “Remember when you were growing, I always said where there was a problem, there was always a solution. It’s only a matter of finding it.”
I nodded. “Besides divorce, what other solution would there be? I’ve fallen out of love with Angela.” I shook my head. “Come to think of it. I don’t believe I was ever in love with her. Probably just a compromising attraction.”
“Compromising attraction?”
“Yes. I guess, or I think we both felt a mutual attraction based on the wrong reasons.” My gaze dropped to study the intricate designs on the pine table with zero interest.
“There’s someone else, isn’t there Drake?” she asked quietly.
I searched her face for signs of disapproval if that were indeed the case, but all I read was undisguised sadness—because I disappointed her or because I was having problems—I couldn’t tell. “No, mom,” I replied, yet couldn’t stop the small laugh that whizzed past my lips. Fate was a twisted motherfucker—taunting me with Sia’s appearance, smile, and body, only to snatch her away without warning.
“A missed opportunity?” Once again, her wise eyes didn’t miss a thing.
I stood and walked over to the window, studying the beauty outside for a second longer. Turning to face her, I leaned against the ledge, my eyes on the floor. “She’s off-limits.”
“Is she married?”
Uttering a low laugh, I rubbed my pointer finger over my bottom lip. Sia was the kind of woman intoxicating dreams were made of, shrouded in innocence yet unleashing her sexuality on a lonely man, a man whose past was veiled by manipulation, lies, and protecting loved ones. In reality, she was temptation personified, enticing a man to do things with his eyes wide open, others be damned. “She’s younger than me, almost half my age.”
I met my mother’s gaze, expecting contempt. She leaned back in her chair, removed her reading glasses, and cleaned them with a hanky before looking up. Those intelligent eyes, rimmed by wrinkles from years of experience, bore into me, wide and unblinking. Either she understood what I wasn’t saying, or she didn’t want to hear anymore. She sighed. “Can I make a suggestion?”
My brows reached my hairline, surprised at her willingness to listen. Gone was the woman who insisted age-old traditions were necessary, and our family never believed in divorce. “Yes.”
“Ask Angela to move into her own bedroom.” At my frown, she added, “A separation of sorts. That way, you won’t disappoint your father, and it gives you some leeway to move on. To start living again. Perhaps find that elusiveno one?”
Liking her suggestion, I silently conducted my due diligence over the pros and cons of such a move. “And how do you think Angela will feel about that?”
“Feel about what?” Angela’s sudden entrance snapped my gaze. She walked over to the table, kissed my mother’s cheek before rounding the table to bestow me with the same gesture. “So, how do I feel about what?”
My mother was the first to recover. “Nothing serious, dear. We were just chatting about the Christmas eve dinner. I was merely inquiring if you were going to spend it here or at home with your aunt. She mentioned planning a small family get together and wouldn’t be attending our party,” my mother explained, earning a raised brow from me.
