Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bella
New York City
I poured the tea because my hands required the distraction. The kettle had just clicked off, steam curling lazily from the spout and carrying the faint, citrusy scent of Earl Grey.
She sat on the sofa with effortless grace, her legs crossed at the ankle.
The soft cashmere of her sweater caught the afternoon lamplight in subtle shifts of cream and gold.
I took the chair opposite her, maintaining the distance between us out of habit, with the low coffee table acting as a familiar barrier.
My mother took a sip, set the mug down with a quiet clink against the saucer, and looked me dead in the eye. “You’re dating a Burke.”
Heat rushed to my face so fast it felt like a physical burn in my ears. The warmth spread down my neck like spilled sunlight. “Dad told you.”
“He told me,” she confirmed, her voice dry. “He wanted backup.”
“It’s—” I started, then stopped. I wasn’t about to use the word fake with her. She waited, patient as ever, her gaze steady and devoid of pressure. “It’s complicated,” I finished.
My mother nodded as if she’d expected nothing less. “Tell me what happened.”
I wanted to tell her the truth, but Drew and I had promised each other that we’d have one story.
So, I told her everything except the part about my relationship with Drew not being real.
Oh, and I left the part out about Brady and Nora getting in trouble at school.
I also didn’t mention how Drew and I had gone to Vermont to spy on them.
So, sure, I left a lot out, but I did tell her that Drew and I had been spending more time together and that we felt it was important for our fathers to know.
I told her how surprisingly kind and supportive Drew was and how much I was enjoying spending time with him.
My voice came out quieter than I intended.
Every time I said his name—Drew—my pulse gave a small, traitorous kick.
Speaking it summoned the memory of his gentleness, the way he had held me, steady and sure.
I finished by sharing the ultimatum I’d issued to my father and how Drew had echoed it to his own.
She listened without a word. When I finished, she stared at her mug for a long moment, tracing the porcelain rim with one fingertip. “You did the right thing, Bella.”
“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”
My mother’s eyes softened, the fine lines at the corners deepening with a sudden, weary tenderness. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. Because that’s what this is. That’s what it’s always been.”
I looked down at my hands, my fingers laced far too tightly in my lap.
“I protected your father for a very long time,” she said, her voice going distant.
“For years, I tread softly around his anger and made sure the world wouldn’t see it.
I smoothed over his worst days, made excuses, carried his obsession like it was my own responsibility.
I thought that was love. I thought it was what a good wife did. ”
My throat burned, the familiar ache rising sharp and sudden.
“I didn’t leave him because I stopped loving him,” she admitted, and for the first time, her composure cracked—a faint tremor in her lower lip that was gone in an instant.
“I left because I realized marriage was not supposed to require me to disappear or try to be someone I wasn’t.
I still love your father. I probably always will.
Love doesn’t always evaporate when a marriage ends. But it does change.”
Her voice stayed even, but the way she said love carried a quiet ache and a formidable strength. I thought of Drew’s hand in mine at the lawyer’s office, the way it hadn’t asked anything of me, only offered. I couldn’t imagine him letting anyone shut me out or suggest I wasn’t good enough.
I loved my father, but I hated the part of him that had stopped him from being there for my mother.
The room felt smaller, the air heavier with the weight of what she’d carried alone.
He’d disappointed her, but he hadn’t broken her.
She was strong and beautiful, and she deserved so much better than he’d given her.
“I’m happy now,” she asserted. “Free to be me. And that happiness doesn’t mean I don’t care about him.
It means I stopped letting his pain become the center of my life.
The man I’m with now is steady and kind.
He’s retired and enjoying that he can finally travel.
We don’t argue. He likes me, and I like him.
I don’t run interference between him and the world. Finally, I can relax.”
I looked away, blinking hard, but her hand covered mine across the table. Her palm was warm, her rings cool against my skin. The connection was so gentle it made my chest ache. I’d seen this kind of caring . . . from Drew. I didn’t know what to do with that realization.
I pulled in a shaky breath. “When you left Dad, I felt like you also left me.”
My mother went still. She didn’t flinch. She just squeezed my hand. “Oh, Bella. I left him. I would never leave you. I’m still here.”
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear those words. “It didn’t feel that way,” I whispered.
“You were angry, and you had every right to be. But I never stopped being your mother. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to choose. Gabe was so upset when I left and you rallied to his defense. I didn’t blame you. He needed you and I knew I would be okay.”
I bit my lip, tasting salt.
“I should have had the uncomfortable conversations,” she admitted. “I should have told you every single day: I am not leaving you. You couldn’t lose me even if you tried.”
The words loosened a knot in my chest that had been tight for a decade. She smiled then, a small, knowing thing. “You make it easy to believe you don’t need anyone. You always did. So independent. So in charge. Remember the school play when you were eight?”
I groaned. “Mom.”
“You weren’t even in it, but you tried to run it. You made a schedule. You assigned jobs. You told the teacher she needed better lighting.”
“I was eight!” I defended. “And I was right.”
“You were, and the play was better because of the changes you pushed for. Still, you were so young, and you already believed the world would fall apart if you didn’t hold it together.
I used to watch you mothering your friends and guiding them when they stumbled.
I wanted to step in and tell you that they’d love you even if you didn’t, but I hadn’t yet learned that falling wasn’t failure. ”
She leaned in, her gaze unwavering. “It took me a long time to understand that sometimes people need to fall. They need to hit the ground to realize they can stand back up. I didn’t do your father any favors by catching him every time.
I propped him up so long he forgot how to stand without me.
And my only regret is that I didn’t see how much he would lean on you if I left. ”
“I don’t know if I can let him fail,” I whispered.
“No one wants to see him suffer, but you are allowed to set boundaries, Bella. You are allowed to be happy.” She squeezed my hand one last time.
“And if that happiness happens to include a Burke, I promise you, the universe will survive. Love doesn’t require you to suffer for it.
It doesn’t ask you to sacrifice yourself. ”
The words settled over me like warm light. The faint tick of the mantel clock marked time in soft, steady beats.
“Let’s go to dinner. All this reminiscing has my stomach churning.” My mother stood, smoothing her skirt. “Now. Put on some lipstick and let’s go out.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “You eat now?”
It wasn’t until then that I realized my mother was at a healthy weight. Her face was slightly rounder, her features softer. She looked . . . nourished.
She wagged a finger at me. “Shush. Gerald is a chef.”
“You look good, Mom. Amazing.”
She bent and kissed my cheek. “My ass still looks good in a bikini and that’s all that matters.”
I laughed. “I’m so glad we have our priorities right.”
She gave my butt a swat. “One day you’ll be glad you’re my daughter.”
I hugged her. “I already am, Mom. And I always have been.”
We shared a teary look before I turned toward the bathroom. Her voice drifted after me, calm and steady. “Bella?”
I turned.
“Remember,” she said. “Gabe will love you no matter who you choose to be with. He’s stubborn and impulsive, but you and your brothers are why I’ll never regret marrying him. And I know he feels the same way. You’re what we did right.”
I nodded once, my throat too full to speak, and felt strength returning to parts of me I hadn’t realized were fragile.