Page 65 of Villainous Summer

“I’m not. I knew who I married. Did you know that tart he’s been dating wants to marry him?”

I blinked at this news, trying not to let it hurt.

Until she said the words, I hadn’t recognized the little spot inside me that wished my parents would’ve stuck together.

“But he won’t do it. Not while his insurance is covering my care. We might not love each other anymore, but your father is not the monster you’re making him out to be. It’s not black and white. He may have missed the faithful part of the vows, but he’s supporting me in his own way.”

“I’m not forgiving him. In my opinion, he abandoned you.”

Mom shrugged. “And you came home to me. I’ve made my peace with your father. Lord knows I would never want to be married again, washing another man’s dirty socks? No, thank you. But this way, at least, I’m provided for. You don’t have to forgive him. That’s between you two. But don’t hold on to that anger on my behalf. I’m happy here.” She hesitated, a teasing grin spreading. “Though, if you wanted to make me truly happy, you’d find someone like that cute Summer to settle down with. I need some grandkids already.”

“That’s not likely.” I glanced at Summer, who was still on the phone, laughing and waving dramatically.

Since eighteen, I hadn’t allowed myself to think about settling down. From the first date to hookups, I was clear I wouldn’t get serious with them. It was easier than having mixed-up feelings later and disappointing what would often be a great woman. I had told Summer the same thing. And yet. And yet—

Why did this pull toward her feel different? In the safety of my mom’s presence, I could admit I was thinking about Summer far more than I should’ve been. When I read an interesting fact on the back of the cereal box, my first thought was I bet Summer already knows that. When I watched our favorite show, I had to pause and wonder what Summer thought when Sam left the White House to move back to California. The roses in my yard bloomed wide, the same shade of pink as her lips after I kissed her.

She was invading my days. As for the nights. After that time on the boat, I would be thinking about her.

“It better be. You’re too old to be playing these games, Van. Time to grow up.” Her tone softened. “It’s okay to be vulnerable with someone.”

“I know that.”

My tone was sharper than I meant, but Mom didn’t react.

Hesitating, I opened my mouth, then closed it. “But what if—” I swallowed hard.

“You know you’re nothing like your father, right?”

Blinking, I studied her face.

How could she see me clearly?

“Your father was always a little selfish, with money, with his time, in bed.”

“Mom!” I gagged at the thought.

“But you have never been like that. You used to be so sweet, offering to make me toast every morning, burning it half the time. I saw you with your girlfriends in high school. Remember how you got that job at the grocery store just so you had enough to take that girl out on dates? Then, after you found out about your father’s infidelity, it was as if something broke in you. I’d ask you about girls, and you never had someone. At first, I thought it was just the college years. No big deal. But then you’re twenty-five, then twenty-eight. Now, here you are, thirty-two.”

“I know how old I am,” I grumbled.

“Love isn’t a task. It’s not something you take apart to find out how it works. You can do every step exactly right, and something can still go wrong. People get sick.” She motioned to herself. “People fall out of love. And it cannot be explained. There is no step-by-step guide on how to protect yourself.”

“What if the person you’re protecting isn’t you?” I asked, my voice low.

She smiled. “If you care enough to spare them heartache, then I’d say you’re halfway there already.”

On the other side of the sliding glass door, Summer pulled the phone away from her ear and shoved it in the back pocket of her tiny shorts. Her full lips were taut in a devious smile, and a desperation to know what made her so happy lanced me.

I wanted to know her more. I wanted more. Full stop.

An hour later and two more canoe-sex coffees, I said goodbye to Mom. Kneeling, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders.

Mouth to my ear, Mom whispered, “I like that one. Let me know if you need any advice.”

I whispered back, “I don’t need your advice about women, Mom.”

She barked out a laugh, shaking her head. As she pulled away, she cupped my cheeks in her hands the same way she did when I was little. “We’ll see about that.”

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