Page 82 of Until You

“What is your mom like?” Paige asks, brow furrowed and curiosity owning her eyes.

Drunk. Pushy. Obnoxious. More obsessed with the bottle than she was me, and that’s saying something considering she constantly wanted to live vicariously through me.

“My mom was complicated,” I say. The pang hits, but it’s a familiar one. One every child would feel having a parent not want them. One I’m sure the girls might feel every now and again. It never goes away though, and for these two, I hope with everything I have that all will be righted for them and their mom will see the error of her ways. “To be fair, we were like oil and water.”

“What does that mean?”

What does it mean?

Nonstop fighting. Blame laid at my feet for my father drinking himself to death—simply because as a child, I needed to be provided for. Never being good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, when she was the one who was truly ugly inside.

I think her resentment hurt the most. When my studio gave me a part-time job to pay for the dance lessons she required I take, she was angry I wasn’t bringing the money home to her instead.

It feels like forever ago and yesterday all at the same time. Especially when I look from Paige to Addy and see what a great job Crew is doing raising them.

My smile is soft. “Let’s just say that we never really got along.”

“Really? You’re easy to get along with,” Paige says, only serving to put more of my heart firmly in their hands.

“Does she come and visit you?” Addy asks and saves me from having to respond to her sister.

“No.” She doesn’t even know where I am, let alone that I’m still alive. The minute I left that town, I never looked back, and I don’t believe she ever looked for me. But that was the case when I was with Kaleo too. It’s not like my current situation plays into it or would matter to her anyways. “We’ve lost touch to be honest. She struggles with . . . things, and so it’s better off that she focuses on herself more than anything.”

Both girls nod softly and share a glance. I chastise myself for not thinking through my response more. Did my words make them think of their mom? Did it make them miss her and think she’s better off focusing on herself than them?

I’m struggling with how to amend my response when Addy gracefully changes the subject for me.

“Dad is always saying we need to do things because we love them, not because we think he does or that it will make him happy.” She twists her lips and looks down at where she’s picking off her nail polish before looking back up and meeting my eyes. “Is she why you stopped dancing? Did you hate it because she made you do it?”

My smile is quick to cover the sudden bout of sadness her question brings. “No. I still loved it despite her.”

Dancing was my escape. From a home life I’d rather not be at to my identity after marrying a man as dominating as Kaleo. When I glance over to Crew, his head is angled to the side as he watches me. I swear he can read my thoughts. That he can sense I’m censoring the truth for the girls. He nods for me to continue, and once again, he makes me feel heard without even saying a word.

“To be honest,” I say, “I ended up having to quit because life got in the way. I had to move away from the studio where I taught—”

“Why?” Paige asks.

I hope my stuttered smile doesn’t give my lies away or the utter devastation I felt during that time in my life. From what I saw with Kaleo, to the lies I had to tell to keep myself alive, to how I felt leaving the one thing I’d ever truly loved for me.

“I had to pay bills,” I say and stick out my tongue. “Icky adult stuff that you guys won’t have to worry about for a while.”

“Do you ever dance now?” Addy asks. “Just for fun?”

“I haven’t in a long time. No.”

“You should,” Addy says.

“Dad says everyone has to do something for fun to relieve stress,” Paige says. “Back home, Dad and Uncle Justin used to golf. A lot. After they had a tough day, they’d go and play a round of horrible golf as they called it. But not anymore . . .” She glances at her dad and then grimaces as if she shouldn’t have said something.

That, in and of itself, has my curiosity piqued.

“Golfing is your thing?” I ask Crew, not exactly picturing him as a golfer—a bit too calm for a man who lives in the chaos of other people’s lives—but then again, maybe that’s why he does it.

But the minute the words are out, he stands abruptly from the table and moves toward the sink. “At times,” he says gruffly before turning the water on and effectively ending the conversation.

“Tell me about what you’re working on in dance?” I ask Addy to try and alleviate the sudden awkwardness.

She proceeds to show me a few moves, and while I am paying attention to her, I’m also watching Crew. For a man who’s normally so easygoing, there’s definitely something eating at him.