Page 64 of Obsessed Mate

I pulled my hair over my right shoulder and started threading my fingers through it. Somehow, the movement made me feel better, though I wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Do you know what that does to me now?” I asked in a low voice. “It makes me feel hopeless about ever being happy in a relationship. You keep pressuring me to get a date and get married, but you never once asked me whether it was something I wanted.”

Mom lowered her gaze. She cradled her lemonade in her right hand, catching condensation with her thumb and then wiping it on the tablecloth covering the table. Sunlight poured through the gardens and illuminated the left half of the porch while keeping us in the shade.

Windchimes nearby sang through the silence. Mom kept staring, and I kept waiting for her to say something. Even if it was to argue, I wanted her to saysomethingrather than just sit here in failure.

A few seconds later, Mom reached for my hand. Condensation transferred to me, cooling me off in a way, and then she rubbed my knuckles like she used to do during thunderstorms when I was a kid.

“Sadie, I didn’t know this was so rough on you,” she whispered. “You just, well…” She sighed. “You always seemed to just carry everything so well.”

“You didn’t really give me any other option. You raised me to be that way.”

Her thin brows fought together and parted in rapid succession. “Our family shuns divorce. It’s just something the Turners don’t do. I was trying to save you from being booted out just because of me.”

“But that’s no reason to treat me like I’m some kind of magical therapist who can fix everything.”

“Your grandmother was a powerful woman. But in her power, she showed me that I had to make things happen I didn’t always want to happen.”

I squeezed her hand. “Things are different now.”

She chortled. “Things can be fake now. Who knew?”

It was a mild stab, but a stab, nonetheless. Things wouldn’t change overnight. I had to press on and try to be patient with her while holding my ground.

“Please, try to be direct with me. Don’t fall into being passive just because you’re upset. I’ll do my best not to do it either.”

She gave me a weak grin. “Okay, Sadie. I can try.”

“Do you want to talk about Dad?”

“No, I don’t want to talk about Dad right now. Tell me about Andres.”

I shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. The engagement was totally fake so I could help distract the family from your failing marriage.”

Hurt splashed her features, and then tears were in her eyes. But they weren’t the crocodile ones that she wore when she was trying to convince me to do something. They were very much real. And they were trickling toward her mouth.

“You were suffering all that time,” she said shakily, “just to make sure the luncheon went without disaster.”

“I did.”

She chuckled, shook her head, and then lifted her lemonade. “Well, your grandmother would be proud of that ruse. Let me tell you.”

I rubbed my neck. My mark was starting to itch, but I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because I felt sticky from my hangover. “I’m not really sure how I feel about receiving that as a compliment. Grandma was kind of rude.”

“You mean she was a bitch.”

I gaped at her. “Mom.”

“What? It’s true. Oh, it feelsso goodto say that.”

“I think you and I are going to feel really good saying things we haven’t been able to say.”

She grinned slyly. “You’ve taken the cockpit on that one. It’s your fault.”

“For once, I’ll actually agree with you.”

And then we laughed together like nothing had ever been wrong. How oddly liberating it felt to enjoy time with my mother. Most of the time when I had to see her, I dreaded the way she would treat me. I worried about her picking apart my appearance or studying my nails to see if they had been properly manicured. But today, surprisingly enough, she hadn’t said a word about my disheveled hangover chic. She didn’t seem to mind it at all once I gave her a piece of my mind.

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