Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
E lla
I haven’t been able to stop crying for seven days.
It feels like I have a giant hole ripped in my gut and my heart aches more than I ever thought possible. “I shouldn’t feel like this,” I tell my mom, who drove to Santa Monica after I couldn’t take a long enough break from my tears to have a conversation with her. “I’ve had relationships end and it’s always been fine. We walked away and went on with our lives, and I didn’t look back. I don’t know what’s happening.”
My mom puts a teakettle on the stove to boil water and signals for me to sit in the banquette under my kitchen window. I used to like having a cup of coffee there and looking out at the view of the Pacific Ocean, but after Archer showed me a completely new way to make use of a window seat at his house, sitting here feels hollow. Everything does.
I gaze at the view, which drew me to buy this house two years earlier. Now I long to stare at the miles of grapevines laden with fruit ripening in the Napa sun.
My mom bustles in my kitchen, pulling mugs from my cupboards and opening my fridge to look for creamer. Her light brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she shuffles around in workout pants, a long sweater, and Ugg boots. It’s clear where I get my fashion sense.
By the time the kettle whistles, she’s fished a box of Girl Scout cookies from the freezer and assembled the Thin Mints on a plate. She brings this to my round marble table, along with two mugs of tea. I can smell the lavender mingling with the decaffeinated black tea, and it makes me long for Buttercup Hill. Everywhere I turn there are memories of Archer, and each one makes the tears spring forth anew.
“Oh, honey, come here,” my mom says when she sees that I’m crying again. She pushes the mugs and cookies aside and comes to sit next to me on the bench. She puts her arms around me and pulls me close. I let her smooth my hair and rub my back, all things I believed I’d outgrown when I became an adult. A part of me is relieved to know I’ll probably never outgrow these mom moments.
I didn’t think I had any tears left but they keep coming. We sit there for so long that the tea goes cold. When my sobs subside, I sip the lukewarm beverage.
My mom pushes the plate of cookies to me, but I shake my head. “I have no appetite.”
“You’re in love. And heartbroken. I can see it on your face. So whatever is going wrong with Callum, you’ll work it out. I know you will, and the wedding date isn’t for months,” she says, popping a cookie into her mouth.
It’s then that I realize how much I’ve withheld from her. I shake my head. “No. Mom, I’m not going to marry Callum. And that’s not who I’m crying over.”
She gives me a bewildered look and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, ready to listen to whatever I plan to say. “Oh, my girl is never far from drama.” I know she means it to sound sweet, like she’s on my side no matter how scandalous my behavior is, but for once, I push back at the perception people have of me—including my own mother.
“It’s not drama. Callum cheated on me. He and I are done. I don’t love him. But the engagement was a sham to begin with. I never loved him. It was cooked up by our publicists to solve our respective image problems. I’m sorry if I’m not the perfect daughter with the perfect husband, but I did it so I could adopt. At least I was going to be the perfect mother. Or try.” It pains me to burst my mom’s bubble, the idea she had for me as a glowing bride, but she might as well know the real me.
“Oh, honey. There’s no such thing as the perfect mother.” She points to herself. “Case in point. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you believe I’d ever question your choices. And good riddance to someone who’d do that to you or my future grandchild. I’d like to call him up and tell him exactly what I think of his cheating cowboy self.”
“Be my guest.”
I attempt a hollow laugh, so I’m not expecting my breath to catch as I inhale. Or the tears I try to blink back. My mom reaches out to hug me and I gratefully embrace her. When she lets me go, she puts her hands on my shoulders and nods as though something has been decided.
“I’m sorry you’re so sad about how things went with Callum. But you’ll find your way, and when the time’s right, you’ll be an excellent mother.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that. I met someone else who’s amazing, but we have no chance at a real future, so we ended things. That’s why I’m sad. I miss him.”
“Tell me about him, this man you’re in love with.”
“I don’t think I want to talk about it.” I take a sip of tea, unsure if I want to tell her about Archer. It will probably just make me sadder.
My mom throws up her hands. “Why are you being so stubborn?”
“Fine. His name is Archer, and I love him. I do. For the first time in my life, I actually feel like I’ve found the fairy tale prince. He calls me princess, if you can believe it. But so what? He doesn’t want kids and I’m going to be a mom, so it’s a non-starter.”
She stirs some cream into the lukewarm tea but doesn’t drink it. I can tell she’s thinking by the way she fixates on the motion of the spoon. “You’re certain of this?”
“Mom, when he found out there’s a baby I have a real chance of adopting soon, you should’ve seen the look on his face. He looked happy for me but resigned to letting it be the end of us. There was never any discussion about us staying together for the long haul and doing this together. He offered to marry me to help keep the adoption going through, but I know now that I don’t want a marriage of convenience. Especially with him.”
My mom takes a long inhale that seems to speak its own language, as only my mother could. Problem is that I don’t know what she’s saying. Face stern, she taps a finger against her chin.
“If he feels the way you do, that doesn’t sound like convenience. It sounds like love.”
“No. He said he didn’t want kids many times. Why would that change just because I’m in a pickle?” I think about it. “He only offered after my lawyer suggested I stay with Callum, so it wasn’t so much that he had a change of heart. He was just trying to be a good guy.”
“Or maybe that good guy really loves you more than he loves his plan to be childless.”
I want to believe her, but I can’t carry that responsibility for changing his plans. Eventually, he’ll resent me for it.
“No. He wants what he wants. Or doesn’t want, in this case. ”
She looks thoughtful. “A lot of people don’t think they want to be parents until they’re faced with it.”
I shrug. Archer has made it clear how he feels.
“Listen, you know I love you more than anything, but I wasn’t ready to be a mother until that pregnancy test came back positive. First, I freaked out, then I was in denial, and then I started to come around to the idea of being a parent. Probably a reason Mother Nature gives us nine months. Some of us need it to wrap our brains around the idea.”
“Not being ready to be a parent is different from not wanting kids,” I clarify, unwilling to let her be right when she doesn’t know Archer.
“All I’m saying is that he might not know what he wants until he wants it with a person he loves. And based on how you’re wallowing, I’d say whatever you have between you is different than anything you’ve felt before in a relationship.”
“It is.”
“Then talk to him. You owe yourselves that much.”
I take a sip of my tea, which is so cold I wince. “Why are we drinking this?”
“Because crying makes you dehydrated. Listen to your mother.” She puts an arm around me and hugs me tight.