Page 94 of Not Another Love Song

She nodded, beginning to chop. Gwen watched the way her lips pressed together.

“What do you want to say? Say it, Mabel.”

“I’m happy for you. Just be careful.”

Gwen scoffed. “I’m careful about everything. Why would this be any different?”

“Because it’s a boy. You’ve never had a boy. Not one that could get in your way.”

Scowling, Gwen dropped her hands on her hips. “Is this about Ava again?”

Mabel’s hands paused. She closed her eyes and inhaled. “Alex Fitzgerald—or Xander whatever—has a full career under his belt. Yours is just beginning. All I’m saying is that it’s easy to lose focus at this stage of your life. He’s in a position to take advantage of you—”

“Mabel, Jesus.” Gwen threw her hands up. “You know nothing about him as an adult. You know nothing about our relationship. He’s giving me the opportunities. He’s writing duets for me to record with him.”

“Oh, isn’t that nice,” Mabel bit out. “Your career will owe him a debt while he profits off your talents in his record sales. And in the meantime, Nathan Andrews is ecstatic, I’m sure. Can’t wait for the new brochures with the two of you on the cover.”

Gwen stuttered, thinking of the mock-ups Nathan had shown her just that morning. “I honestly don’t know how you’ve managed to make this about Nathan and Ava. Again.” She paced away and spun back. “I don’t know the people who wronged you so badly, Mabel. The Nathan and Ava I know have never tried to control my life as much as you have.”

Mabel’s lip curled as she thrust the knife through the carrots. “Control? I couldn’t control you if I tried. You still threw away your chance at college to join an amateur orchestra.”

Gwen felt like there was a river inside of her, and it had finally been given permission to run. All the times she’d wanted Mabel to say congratulations or good job were swirling around her head, reminding her that nothing would be good enough for her. The Pops would never be good enough for her.

The words poured out of her like acid. “You know what you sound like when you go on and on about Ava and Nathan? Jealous and bitter, like someone whose life didn’t turn out the way she wanted. But you still expect that life from me.”

Mabel slammed her hands on the counter. The bowls jumped and the spoons rattled. “Why shouldn’t I? You’re remarkable, Gwen. You’ve always been remarkable. Why shouldn’t I want remarkable things for you?”

“Because you’re not my mother!”

The words vibrated through the small apartment. Gwen felt them spin through the rooms and ricochet back to her.

She wished she could take them back, swallow the words and choke them down. She felt so small suddenly.

Mabel stared—the only indication that she’d heard her was the way she squeezed the knife and bit the inside of her cheek.

The fury from before shrank to sadness, coalescing into a lump in her throat that she couldn’t breathe around. “Mabel, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

Mabel swiveled away from her, returning to the stew— dismissing her.

Gwen waited for ten seconds, twenty. When Mabel had nothing else to say to her, Gwen grabbed her bag, slung it on her shoulder, and moved to the door.

“I never wanted to be a mother,” Mabel whispered in the silence, and Gwen stopped. Mabel waved her hand at the empty apartment, as if to prove her point, and then glanced to her with sad eyes. “But you needed one. So I did what I could.”

“I know. You did everything right. But when I choose differently, I wish you wouldn’t assume that it’s ‘wrong.’” She waited for Mabel to respond, the seconds ticking. Nothing. “I have to get going.”

There were tears gathering in her eyes as she threw open the door and rushed to the subway. She finally cried them on the train that took her out of Queens.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Gwen stared out the window of Alex’s Porsche as he drove them up to Massachusetts. He navigated the Manhattan streets with ease and let her sulk in peace, accepting her explanation that she had had a fight with Mabel and didn’t want to talk about it. She dozed on and off, waking up to remember the way she’d screamed at the person who was the closest thing she had to family.

When she was awake, she watched Alex. She wondered if he was her family now, if he would stay in the way that others hadn’t. She stared at him while he drove. He wore his Ray-Bans and drummed his long fingers on the steering wheel as the Porsche purred underneath them. He played with the speed limit when the highways were open, and cursed in the stop-and-go traffic.

Gwen took his hand when it was free. She felt so raw from crying, and she just wanted to stay close to him today. And he looked outrageously good in a simple white v-neck, dark jeans, and black leather jacket. Every rumble of the Porsche under her sent vibrations into her thighs, and she considered several times if she should ask him to pull over. She’d never had sex in a car, but this car, this man…it felt so right. It was only the threat of being caught that helped her resist the temptation.

By the time they reached the hotel, Gwen was itchy, her skin hot. Alex was still giving her space from the morning, but it was enough space. Too much space. She wanted zero space.

“What time is sound check?” she asked as he held the key card to the hotel room door. She could hear the husky quality to her voice.

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