Uh-oh.
My stomach clenches. She didn’t seem angry during dinner, but perhaps she just hid it well.
“About what?”
She runs a finger along the edge of her polished wooden desk and checks it for dust. “Everything.” She leans forward, her chin resting on her palm. “I know you’re only here because Harley pressured you into coming.”
“Wait—” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.
“I don’t care. I’m just grateful you came. I know how much you hate Cedar Bend, and deep down, I think we both know you resent me too.”
I stare at her, aghast. How can she think I resent her? She’s the only parent I’ve ever had. She gave me everything. Enabled me to become the man I am. Supported me to make it big in Las Vegas even though it meant leaving her behind. Now she’s watching me, calm as can be, as though she’s stated a fact as simple as the sky being blue or grass being green. Those hazel eyes, nearly identical to Harley’s, betray no hint of her emotion. For years, I hated my eyes for being different from theirs, and for reminding me of a man I wanted nothing to do with.
“I don’t resent you.”
Her expression grows challenging. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah.” I want to shut this conversation down as fast as possible.
She shakes her head. “It’s time to be honest with yourself. If you and Ashlin have a baby, you don’t want to pass bitterness on to your child.” Her fists clench, knuckles whitening. “I certainly don’t want my first grandchild to avoid Cedar Bend. I want to be part of their life. So please, do me a favor and think really hard. Is there anything you’d like to clear up with me?”
I’d really fucking love to dismiss her concerns and stick to my guns, but she’s my mom and she’s clearly given this a lot of thought, so I give her the respect of doing the same.
And something hits home.
She’s right. I do resent her. At least on one front.
“I can ask you anything?” I clarify, knowing that sometimes my idea of what’s acceptable differs from other people’s.
“Yes,” she agrees with a determined thrust of her chin. “Anything.”
“Why did you get pregnant with a married man?”
Her gulp is audible, but to her credit, she doesn’t look away. “How long has that been simmering inside?”
“Too long,” I admit.
She nods, and inspects her fingernails, remaining silent for so long that I wonder if she’s regretting the invitation to be open. But then she raises her gaze and settles it on me. “Let me start at the beginning.”
“Please don’t try to explain it away.”
Her shoulders square. “I was eighteen when I moved here, and I’d grown up very sheltered. It was my first time away from home, and I’d only been in town for a week when I met Harrison.”
My breath freezes in my lungs. She’s never come out and said his name before. Admitted who he is. There has only been hints and misdirection.
“He was older,” she continues. “Mature. Very attractive.” Her lips slant wryly. “I ran into him at a bar—I had a fake ID—and we flirted. He wasn’t wearing a ring, and nobody mentioned his wife, so I assumed he was single.”
“He hit on you?” In all the versions I’ve heard from others over the years, Mom was the seductress who lured a good man into sin. It didn’t help that she never spoke out about what happened, either publicly or privately.
“He did. He asked to see me again, and we went to dinner a couple of nights later. He offered to drop me home, then asked me to invite him in for coffee. I was naive, so I did.” She laughs without humor. “Harrison could be very persuasive. How do you think he managed to win five elections in a row?” She makes a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “I was flattered by his attention, and went along with it. We had sex, and didn’t use protection because he assured me it would feel much better that way, and that I couldn’t possibly get pregnant from our first time.”
“That fucker.”
Her eyes flash. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, honey. I’m not saying all of this to lay the blame at his feet, just to set the scene. I was foolish, and he was charming.”
“He was a man with a pregnant wife at home who wanted to live large with a younger woman.”
She tilts her head in acknowledgment. “I saw him another two times over the next week, but then I ran into him down the main street one day with his wife. She wasn’t far along, but I could tell she was pregnant. When I approached him, he acted as though we’d never met. Treated me like a deluded little idiot.” Her voice tightens with frustration. “Which I was, because I had no idea that I was the other woman. His wife knew though. I saw it on her face, and it was awful. You don’t know how low you can feel until you have to watch a man’s wife realize that her husband has been fucking you behind her back. That poor, poor lady. I never blamed her for what came next because I felt like I deserved it. I should have been smarter. Shouldn’t have been at that bar with a fake ID in the first place.”
