Page 111 of The Worst Pucking Deal

Her eagerness not to be a bother makes it hard to make any suggestions. If Sy wasn’t so closed off, I’d have suggested O’Jackie’s since he feels comfortable there. But no, that doesn’t seem like a good idea. Since we’re all dressed casually we could go to… hmm.

I look to Sy for help because it’s his mom and I’m unsure of what suggestions to offer. “How about the steakhouse?” he says, and I nod.

PrimeCuts is a steakhouse close to our apartment that we’ve been to a few times. The food there is outstanding, the dress code is informal, and all the employees are incredibly friendly. They always let us eat in peace, even if the women eye Sy more than I’d like. Can’t blame them, though. My husband is super fucking handsome.

As we step into PrimeCuts Grill & Steakhouse, I can feel the tension thickening with every silent moment. Sawyer, Clarissa, and I are ushered to our table, and the weight of unspoken words hangs heavily in the air. I try to break the ice by suggesting some of the restaurant’s specialties to Clarissa, but the conversation fizzles out quickly.

Once the server takes our orders and brings our drinks, the silence settles over us once more, like a heavy blanket. I notice Clarissa’s gaze lingering on my hand, where the glint of her old wedding band catches her eye.

“Sy gave it to me,” I say, holding my hand up to show her. “It used to be yours, right?”

Clarissa nods slowly. “Yes, it did. May I?” When I nod, she takes my hand and moves it closer so she can better see the ring. “I hope the ring brings you better luck than it did me,” she says almost wistfully as she lets go of my hand.

Sy scoffs. “Yeah, luck.” He throws his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to his side. “Lucia doesn’t need luck, Mom. She’s not the unfaithful kind, unlike certain others at this table.”

Ouch, that was harsh—too damn harsh. “Sy,” I admonish.

“No, it’s fine,” Clarissa says. “Don’t hold back, son. I’ve been waiting for you to let it all out for years. So let me have it.” Her tone is hard, and she holds his gaze without wavering.

We’re briefly interrupted when the server brings our food over, which feels like a breath of fresh air. Sy and I ordered the porterhouse, and Clarissa went for the filet mignon. All three of us chose the salads and roasted potatoes as well.

“This is delicious,” I say around a bite. “How’s yours?” I know I should shut up and let them continue their stand-off until one of them cracks. But my skin is crawling with how uncomfortable this is, and since it’s my fault, I feel responsible for the lack of conversation.

“It’s fine, bunny,” Sy replies. His tone is softer now that he’s speaking to me.

“Yes, thank you for suggesting it,” Clarissa says, daintily wiping her mouth with her cloth napkin after taking a few bites.

Now that everyone has answered my question, the silence ensues again. This time I focus on my food instead of forcing meaningless conversation. I make it halfway through my plate before Sy clears his throat.

“You ruined our family, Mom,” he says, his words laced with pain and anger. “You cheated on Dad repeatedly, and then you asked me to keep your secret.”

Clarissa’s expression tightens, her eyes flickering with hurt and regret. She opens her mouth to respond, but then closes it again, allowing Sy’s words to hang over the table. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling like an intruder in this intimate moment between mother and son. It’s clear that there are wounds here that have yet to heal, wounds that have shaped Sy in ways I’m only beginning to understand.

My heart contracts again, and feeling at a loss for what to do, I rest my head on my husband’s shoulder, silently letting him know I’m here.

Clarissa’s voice trembles slightly as she responds, her words heavy with remorse and sadness. “I know, Sawyer. I made mistakes, and I’ve regretted them every day since.” She shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. “Actually, that’s not true. I don’t regret what I did. The only thing I regret and am so sorry for is how it affected you. As your mom, I should have shielded you, and I didn’t. That I regret.”

Sawyer’s jaw tightens, his eyes reflecting a mix of anger and frustration. “Saying you’re sorry isn’t enough, Mom,” he says, his voice strained. “You tore our family apart, and you expect us to just move on like nothing happened.”

The crushing weight of Sy’s accusation makes it hard to breathe. It’s a raw and vulnerable moment, one that lays bare the deep-seated emotions and unresolved issues that have plagued their relationship for years.

“If I may,” I say, speaking up. If I keep quiet, they’re just going to continue in the same loop of her ruining what Sy thought was a happy family, which I very much doubt was the case. “Why did you cheat on your husband, Clarissa?” God, I sound like such a rambling idiot, but I don’t know of a better way to ask.

Clarissa takes a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I wasn’t happy,” she admits, her voice trembling. She reaches her hand toward Sy, but when he doesn’t take it, she just lets it fall to the table. “Your father and I, we should have divorced long before we did. But I was scared, and I made mistakes.”

Sawyer’s expression softens slightly, but there’s still a guardedness in his eyes. “That doesn’t excuse what you did, Mom,” he says, his voice softer now but still tinged with hurt. “Wait a fucking second. What do you mean scared? Did Dad hurt you?”

“He never raised a hand to me if that’s what you’re asking,” she hurriedly replies. “But he was the breadwinner. Everything we owned was bought and paid for by him. I didn’t have anything of my own, so I was scared he’d be able to take you away from me.” She laughs bitterly. “Ironic that my own actions drove you away, huh.”

Tears gather in my eyes as I look at the woman. Her shoulders slumping with the weight of her guilt as she looks down at her trembling hands.

“Why did you never tell me any of this?” Sy asks, sounding more curious than angry. I decide to take that as a good sign.

“When should I have told you, Sawyer? You’ve been angry with me since you were just a boy, and the second you could, you left my house. You rarely answer my calls, texts, and emails. I can’t even get you to spend any time with me.”

Sy slams his fist into the table. “Don’t you dare make this my fault—”

She exhales audibly and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m not. I’ve spent years trying to make amends, trying to rebuild what I’ve broken. But I can’t change the past. All I can do is try to be better, to do better.”

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