Page 22 of The Love Destroyers

“I loved my job,” I admit, glancing out the window. My mother’s elderly gardener is leaning over to clip a bush, giving us a perfect view of his aged posterior. “I was protecting people. It felt…important.”

She makes a sound that is probably meant to be sympathetic and reaches over to pat my hand. “I should have been more of an airplane mother when you and your brother were younger. I’ll always regret that.”

“Do you mean helicopter?” I ask, caught between wanting to laugh and the distressing burning feeling behind my eyes.

She waves a hand. “Helicopter, airplane, call it whatever you’d like. But I didn’t know your father was hurting Anthony until just before he passed, and at the time, I thought you were better off because he—”

“Ignored me?”

“Yes. I wish he’d ignored all of us, to be frank.”

I laugh, feeling the burning sensation recede. “So do I. Now, whose housewarming party are you dragging me to?”

Her gaze is hawk-like. “Have you been listening to me at all? I must have told you at least five times over the last week that Claire’s father Chuck has moved to Asheville. Claire, you know, the girl who’s marrying Rosie’s older brother.”

No, Ihaven’tbeen listening. I’ve been obsessed with getting this room perfectly right, and I’m still not satisfied. This chair definitely has to go. It feels like I’m sitting on a rock attached to a ladder. And the window closest to the fireplace is gusting cool air. Maybe we can replace it with a stained-glass window. Hold on…maybe I canmakethe stained-glass window. That would take up a lot of time, wouldn’t it? It would probably be challenging. Possibly entertaining too.

And yet, the house will probably still feel wrong.

There’s that office, festering.

There’s this room, imperfect.

There’s me…cracked through the middle.

My mother has continued speaking, moving the conversation along to the other people who will be there. One of them is Nicole, of course, because it’s impossible to get away from her and her hunky husband. I’m guessing she’ll pull me aside for her usual pep talk about what a loser I am for letting Jeffrey and a woman who’s famous for her pet rabbit walk all over me. And yet…my mother’s not wrong. I need to get out more. Maybe I could even get a job somewhere as an interior decorator. Spice things up.

It’s not an appealing thought. To be perfectly honest, I prefer telling people what to do to being ordered around, but it’s better than sitting idle and waiting for the hearing.

“Yeah, of course,” I say. “Chuck. He’s the one who needs to divorce the occultist. Why’s he moving here?”

She clucks her tongue again. “Because Claire is his only child, of course, and he’s thrilled she’s marrying that gardener.” Her gaze turns shrewd. “I wouldn’t mind ifyoumarried a gardener.”

“Seriously, mother? You’ve been telling me for years that marriage is a prison. It’s part of the reason I became a divorce attorney.” Experiencing my father’s domineering coldness was another. I used to daydream that she’d leave him and take us far, far away.

She shrugs carelessly. “Yes, and most of my marriagesdidfeel like prisons, but look at your brother and Rosie, and all those other young people they spend time with? They’re outlandishly happy. It’s given me a new lease on life. That’s why I’ve decided to give it another go.”

“I’m not interested in marriage,” I say, meaning it.

“So don’t get married,” she says flippantly, going for another sip of her drink and then setting it down on a coaster on the new side table. She almost drops it, because the one I purchased—mid-century, solid wood, classic—is lower than the old one. “Find someone who’ll show you a good time. Back in my day, I had a lot of fun with lots of men. You know, a woman’s thirties are her prime when it comes to—”

“Mother,” I say, groaning. “I don’t want to hear about your dozens oflovers. It’s bad enough that I walked in on you and Mark ‘expressing your affection’ all over the rose garden.” Mark being her third and favorite husband. He’d been gentle and introverted, the opposite of my father, but ultimately too withdrawn for her. She liked to engage, and he sought out peace. Alone, in the garden. On trips that didn’t include her. Sometimes, although none of us talked about this openly, with a famous male poet he went to boarding school with. I don’t wanther to launch herself into another relationship that will end with her feeling undervalued and unfulfilled.

“But, you know, I’d rather you find a lover than another husband.” I pause, considering how to say this gently, then decide it’s probably too late for me to learn to talk that way. “You don’t have to marry every man you like.”

She shakes her head as if I’m being obtuse. “Dear, if I’d married every man I’d had a tendre for, I’d have been married two dozen times, not three. Am I open to the possibility of more? Yes, but I’m certainly not going to settle. I already know three personality types that wouldn’t work for me. It’s time to find one that does. But you’re evading the point. What I’m saying is that you should be enjoying yourself. Maybe that handsome gardener has a gardener friend who’d show you a good time.”

Or a bad news brother, my mind supplies.

Gritting my teeth, I say, “His name’s Declan. Claire’s fiancé, I mean.”

“Iknowhis name, Emma.” She glowers at me. “I don’t have dementia.” Then she taps her phone aggressively, her perfect manicure making a ringing sound. “But I can’t figure out the notifications for this confounded app. I don’t want to hear about it every time some egghead sends me a photograph of his—”

“All right…Kitten.” I clap my hands. “Do you think our best friend Chuck would like a new chair? I’ve got just the thing.”

Two hours later,an apple-cheeked Chuck welcomes us into his apartment with as much warmth as if he’s our long-lost something or other. He kisses my mother on the cheek. She sayshe looksdashing—and seems to mean it unironically—which is probably a surprise to both Chuck and me, given he’s wearing a beige sweater with buttons.

I watch my mother with suspicion. Has she been dosing herself with hormones?

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