Page 31 of The Jilted Lovers Club
“Not finished.” Her eyebrow quirk. “My fiancé left me for another woman, and not just any other woman.” She pauses, a wince in her expression. “He left me for my cousin.”
I suck in a breath.
“And now, they’re married and have a baby.”
“Wait.” I think back to yesterday. “Is this the same cousin you were talking about? The one who just had a baby?”
“The one and only.”
I let out a long, heavy exhale, shaking my head. “Damn, no wonder you don’t like kids.”
“I never said I didn’t like kids,” she protests, though she rolls her eyes. “I don’t hate them. It’s just that…” She trails off, leaving the unspoken words hanging. I don’t press. “At any rate, I spent five years shaping my life around that relationship. I stayed near home when all I really wanted was to travel, to see the world and make a name for myself. After it ended, I packed up what I could and traveled through Europe for three months before finding a place to live in New York.”
“And Italy was your favorite. What was the best part?”
“The food,” she says with a smile, “I’ve spent my whole life eating clean and healthy. My mom’s always been on my case about what I eat, how much I exercise. She wanted me to be an actress.Herdream. I’d be the star she could brag about.”
She takes a sip of coffee, looking at me over the rim, her eyes distant.
“I’m a huge disappointment to her.”
“But how? You’ve managed to make your life what you want, especially after a bad breakup. I’d think she’d be proud of you.”
“You’d think,” she mutters, then laughs bitterly. “You don’t know my mom. Let’s just say nothing is easy with her. I’ll always fall short.”
She nods toward Lottie, who’s busy playing with her food. “But I get it now. You’ll see. Your daughter’s easy now, but atsome point, she’ll have her own ideas and goals. They won’t align with what you want for her. You’ll feel like you’ve invested all this time and energy into a path for her, only to watch her reject it all.”
I can’t speak right away. Her words are too heavy, too honest.
Too wrong.
Finally, I say, “First off, Ihopemy daughter finds her own path in life.”
Jordy scoffs, shaking her head. “Like her mom did? How proud do you think Bob and Bec are of Sasha for making her own way?”
“That’s not a fair comparison—”
“Isn’t it? I’m sure they had dreams for Sasha. Instead, she robs them blind and takes off, making them sell the store just to keep the farm afloat.”
I know the gravity of what Sasha did. I’ve thought the same things. But something about the way Jordy frames it makes me want to defend her. Even more, I want to argue against Jordy’s skewed sense of parenting.
“Okay, Sasha made mistakes—mistakes that Bob and Bec never would’ve wanted for her. But they still keep her room ready for her, in case she comes back. No matter what she’s done, or what happens, they’ll always welcome her home. That’s what good parents do.” I look at Lottie, who is still playing with her food. “That’s the kind of parent I want to be for Lottie. Yes, I have hopes for her, but they aren’t set in stone. I hope she finds what excites her each day and chases that with everything she’s got. I hope she fails so that she knows how to pick herself up again. Most of all, I hope she lives a life of her own making, even if that means rejecting my plans for her. All I can do is offer her a foundation of love and support, so she knows she’s safe and loved no matter what path she takes.”
Jordy’s eyes are wide when I finish, and she quickly turns away.
I see it then—she’s crying … or trying not to.
“Hey. What’s happening? What’s on your mind?”
She waves her hand, trying to brush it off. Then she gets up, picking up her plate to clear it. I know it’s her way of escaping.
“Leave it,” I say gently. “Come here.”
She shakes her head, wiping her eyes. But still, she sits back down, pushing her plate away. I reach for her hand, pulling her closer. The intimacy of the moment hits me like a freight train. Her cheek against my chest. My arm around her shoulders. The warmth of her tears soaking into my skin.
And I don’t care if it’s too forward, I just want to comfort her.
I stroke her hair softly. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
