Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
She’s more than happy to claim the limelight, and tells us at length about her roles, her costumes, her directors, her co-stars, and all the backstage drama, drawing everyone else in with her stories. I drop in strategically-timed questions whenever the conversation starts to flag, and that gets us through the meal.
Before dessert is served, Thorn walks by and says something about being called in to work. He sends me an apologetic look, but that’s all.
It’s completely unfair of me—I’m sure he didn’t invent whatever work situation requires his presence—but I’m envious of him escaping scrutiny so easily. Too bad I don’t have an emergency wedding to deal with.
The whole time, Mom keeps her word and doesn’t mention the men at all, but I can feel her watching me, observing every tiny detail of my behavior. So I try to distract her too, asking questions about her friends back in Atlanta, her favorite shops, and the neighborhood dogs’ escapades. It helps, a little.
When it’s time to leave, Kai and Gage are nowhere around, so we thank Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez and head out to my car. Part of me is relieved that I didn’t have to tell the men goodbye in front of witnesses, and part of me feels strangely forlorn.
The second we’re in the car, my mom lets out a sigh. “Go ahead,” I say, as I turn the car on and get us on the road. “Lay it on me.” I might as well get it over with.
“They’re all fine young men, Lexy. But do you really know what you’re doing?”
I don’t know what to say. On the one hand, no, I have no idea. I’m following my gut, my fantasies, and maybe my heart, but definitely not my brain.
On the other hand … I think back to some things I’ve read online, and a conversation I had with my old friend Ava recently. “Mom, did it ever occur to you that my organizational tendencies might be a trauma response?”
“A what?”
“Sorry, that’s a loaded word, but that’s what the professionals call it. I mean that maybe I felt a greater need to be organized than most people because it gave me a sense of control in my life, when there were a lot of other things that were out of my control that were stressful.”
My mother’s lips tighten, and I reach over and take her hand, squeezing gently. “We’ve talked about this before. I’m not blaming you, not for anything. You did the best you could at the time.”
“I know, Lexy. But … I never really got over your father’s behavior, his betrayal.” She’s never remarried, and barely even dated, so I nod. Yes, I know that.
“Your father was just one man, and he hurt me in ways I could not have imagined. With three men … I’m just worried that you might be setting yourself up for more hurt than you can handle, than any one person could handle.”
I squeeze her hand again. “I understand, Mom, and I appreciate that you’re concerned about me, truly. All I can say to that is … they’re not Dad. They’re nothing like him. He can’t stand them, did you know that?”
My mother’s laugh is soft and tinged with bitterness. “He used to complain to me about them. He was sure they were leading you astray.”
“And given his extramarital activities, I think the professionals call that projection,” I say pointedly.
“Yes.”
She sounds tired. I move the conversation hastily on, not wanting Mom to have to revisit painful memories any more than she already has. “The thing is, they were my friends. My very good friends, in the truest sense of the word. There was never anything inappropriate.”
“I kept a close eye on you,” she says. “I knew they were important to you, but I watched for any change in behavior, any sign that, well, something bad had happened. I never saw anything. But it never occurred to me to worry about you being organized.”
I give her hand another squeeze. “Mom, you’re a good mother. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
That gets me a smile. “Anyway,” I go on, “the point of all that is … maybe it’s okay for me to be a little less organized these days. Maybe that’s actually a good thing.”
My mother’s lips twitch. “I hope you’ll agree there’s a difference between ‘a little less organized’ and dating three men.”
I have to laugh. “Yes, but they’re a special case, because of how we all knew each other growing up.”
“I can see that.” She pauses. “Just be careful, Lexy love. I know they’re all friends, but men can be very competitive and possessive, and things could easily go wrong. And a man and woman’s friendship doesn’t always survive a romantic relationship, even when it’s just one on one.”