Chapter 12 #3
‘We don’t need a holiday together, Mum.’ I almost drop the glass. ‘I told you, they’re just staying here for the summer while things blow over with her ex. That’s all.’
‘Yes, yes, but I don’t see why you can’t do that in Pembrokeshire. Your beach house is stunning, and you’ve hardly used it. We had so much fun there when you were little. All those summers on the beach, eating ice cream, playing in the rock pools. Lottie would love it.’
The memories choke me up, but I can’t say why. Grief for Dad, grief for a future I refuse to imagine, grief for the wistful look on Mum’s face.
I swallow it all down with some water, and choose my words carefully. ‘Lottie isn’t my kid. Sadie’s not my girlfriend. This is me helping out a friend, Mum. Nothing more.’
Though she’s not listening. I can tell she’s already picking out a hat – a new one, not the one she chose for Katie’s big day.
I wince as I take another sip of water, wishing it was something stronger.
But it’s a good thing – for Katie as much as me – that I saw sense before we hit the aisle.
I only wish I’d seen that sense sooner. Much, much sooner.
‘Sure, sure, darling. But now she’s here…’
‘ Mum !’
‘Don’t Mum me. That girl saved you from yourself after your father died. Don’t think I didn’t notice.’
I stare back at her – you what ?
‘Don’t look so surprised. I have eyes, you know.’
Eyes that seemed forever distant back then, consumed by her grief.
‘I saw you together at your father’s funeral. When everyone else was at the bar, sharing stories, commiserating, I looked out the window and I saw you there in the rain. All alone. Then she came and ushered you under the trees. I saw how she spoke to you. I saw how you…’
Her throat bobs as her eyes tighten, emotion welling in her depths that I’m wholly unprepared for, while the memory floods my mind with vivid, painful clarity.
‘…you broke down. With everyone else, you were strong, stoic, barely a flicker… I was so worried about you. But I didn’t know how to be there for you when I was struggling to keep it together myself.
But with her, you let go. I saw how she held you, how she gave you the comfort I couldn’t.
She was who you needed, who you trusted… ’
‘She was only eighteen when Dad died,’ I say quietly, like it absolves me of this entire conversation.
‘She was young, yes, but still an adult. She always had an older head on her shoulders. I don’t know if it was her upbringing.
Heaven knows it can’t have been easy growing up with no mother, and a father who’d sooner look the other way than offer her any affection.
But she was older than her years. Wiser.
More than that, she got you to open up. To grieve.
She was there for you in ways I couldn’t be.
In ways Taylor and Axel weren’t. And I did wonder… ’
‘She was simply a good friend to me, and now I’m trying to be a good friend back.’
‘Of course you are, darling, and your father would approve too.’
I give a tight nod, forcing the words to land somewhere I can manage them.
But the grief presses in. The guilt too.
All the time I missed with Dad because I was working.
All those family dinners they invited me to – skipped.
Because the more money I made, the less they’d have to.
They could retire. Travel. Finally work to live, not live to work.
There would always be another family dinner – right?
Wrong.
And Sadie was the only one I ever poured that out to. The only one who truly understood what I’d lost – not just the future, but the past too.
And then I lost her as well.
‘But forgive me for hoping that now she is back,’ my mother says, ‘things might?—’
‘Things might nothing, Mum. There’s nothing going on between us. She’s here to get back on her feet, and then she’ll be gone again.’
Whatever she hears in my voice makes her brow twitch, but I don’t care to find out what. I move around her, back into the living area, eyes on anything but her beady ones.
Maybe I should’ve shown her the door rather than the wine bottle.
She tuts softly. ‘Do you honestly think I can’t see that light back in your face?’
Light? What light? Unless she means the glare from the spotlight she’s set on me.
‘After watching you with her daughter,’ she goes on, ‘the way you play with her, read to her, take care of her – I’m supposed to believe that you really believe there’s nothing more between you both?’
Of course I believe it. I have to. I’m a workaholic, just like Dad.
He did it out of necessity.
I do it by choice.
And I’ll choose work every time. Work is solid. Work is controllable. Work doesn’t break you. Love does. Mum taught me that.
‘Theo?’
‘ Yes. ’ I hate the way it croaks out of me. ‘Believe it.’
‘Mind telling me why?’
‘Because look at me! Look at my life!’
I throw a hand around the room – not the most effective gesture when the place is littered with Lottie. But it doesn’t make what I’m saying any less true.
‘You saw how it was with Katie. Living with someone. Sharing my space. Trying to give them what they needed while still giving work what it needed. It doesn’t end well. Not for anyone.’
She waves a nonchalant hand. ‘Katie was far too demanding and high-maintenance. The Sadie I remember?—’
‘That’s just it,’ I cut in. ‘The Sadie you remember. She’s not that girl any more. She’s been through hell at the hands of her ex and now she needs stability. A chance to take her life back, on her own terms.’
‘And why can’t that life involve you?’
‘Mum, for the love of God, will you stop?’
She stares at me hard and I stare back.
This isn’t a fight she’s ever going to win.
‘Okay, but at least…’
‘At least what?’
‘At least be open to it, darling. I’d hate for you to spend the rest of your life alone.’
‘Why, when it makes me happy?’
‘Does it? Truly?’
I turn away, an unsteady hand raking through my hair.
‘You have such wealth, Theo. More money than your father and I could ever have dreamed of, and I’m so proud of you. Your father would be proud too. But we’d see you trade it in a heartbeat for the happiness we shared.’
‘The happiness ?’ I spin to face her. ‘And what about the pain?’
I hate the way she blanches, her green eyes flinching at the direct hit, but…
‘I know what I was like after your father passed,’ she says huskily. ‘And I’m sorry for it.’
‘You don’t need to be sorry.’ I drag a hand down my face. ‘ I’m sorry. I didn’t say it to make you feel bad. I said it to make you stop.’
‘Is that what holds you back?’ she says quietly. ‘Some deep-seated need to protect yourself from the pain I went through?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m not held back. I tried it with Katie.’
‘But Sadie isn’t Katie.’
No, she isn’t. And that’s the real problem. Because if I were to let Sadie in, there’d be no coming back from that. And the pain if I lost her… truly lost her…
‘She’s Taylor’s little sister.’
‘And she’s the woman who has you disconnected from your computer and your phone for the first time in too many years to count.’
‘I’m not disconnected.’
‘No? Then where’s your laptop? Your phone? I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you without one or the other. Always working, always chasing the money. But I haven’t seen you check either all evening.’
‘Because I’m looking after Lottie.’
‘You can look after Lottie and still check your phone. And she isn’t here now. Have you checked it?’
I don’t even know where the damn thing is. Probably being smothered by one of Lottie’s stray plushies.
‘I bet you don’t even know where it is,’ she says, her smile triumphant, like she’s just read my mind. ‘The Theo I know would’ve had it in the back pocket of his jeans, if not already in his hand. Whether I was in the room or not.’
She’s not wrong. But…
‘I know you want me to settle down, Mum. Get married. Have a couple of kids. But that life – it’s not for me, okay?’
She sets her wine glass down and cups my cheek.
‘But it could be, darling. Don’t you see?’
No, I don’t dare see. Because that kind of image is as powerful as it is fragile.
I gently take her hand and lower it with a squeeze. ‘Just because it’s your dream doesn’t make it mine too.’
You sure about that?