Chapter Twenty-Six
"You guys still haven't done it?" My sister's mouth drops open like she’s a cartoon character.
I scrunch my brows. "We've only been dating a month."
"And you're moving to LA in another. Don't you wanna… seize the moment?"
I shrug. "We're happy."
"Uh huh." She nods skeptically. "Have you guys discussed what's gonna happen when you're more than a thousand miles apart?"
"It hasn't come up."
Picking up Sophie, I lay her back down on the mat on her stomach. This girl hates tummy time, but if I don't want my daughter ending up with a flat spot on her head, I've gotta keep trying.
Penelope, my niece, attempts to copy her big cousin's belly flop but doesn't quite manage it.
"How has it not come up?"
"In the same way Brad, my impending divorce, or politics doesn't." I shrug. "It ruins the mood."
"What mood?" she mutters.
"You know, I'm kinda creeped out by how interested you are in my sex life." I raise a brow.
"Please." She huffs. "I just had a baby and now that Jess and Logan have made up, they've stopped doing the whole overworking-to-avoid-each-other thing, which means Darren actually has to work again and it sucks."
"I thought Logan gave him as much time off as he wanted."
"He did," she agrees, "but it doesn't matter how much love there is. Nobody should be together twenty-four seven. It's not right. And since I work from home, he had to go."
"Oh." I groan. "You're giving me COVID flashbacks."
"Wasn't Brad a first responder?"
"No." I snort. "He's a plastic surgeon in a private hospital. I mean he still helped. After I encouraged him to donate some time to the local hospital."
She gives me a look.
"It was his idea," I snap.
"Sure it was," she drawls. "You know it's weird that there are entire chunks of your life I know nothing about."
"It's the same with you." I shrug. "I guess that's what happens when people grow up. They drift apart. But we're here now."
She looks down at Penny. "Are you gonna go back to the way you were before?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean with your posse." She rolls her eyes. "I know you guys are fighting and everything, but you'll probably make up when you're back and I just..." She shrugs. "I don't want Penny to lose her big sister."
I purse my lips. Why do I get the feeling she means more than one big sister?
"It’s not gonna happen."
Picking up Penny when her face starts to scrunch, I settle her on my lap.
Using my best baby voice, I say, "I'm not gonna leave this little girl. No, I'm not."
Penny giggles as I bounce her lightly.
"Besides." I set her back down and hold up a teddy bear to distract her. "You know they iced me out because Melissa told them I never paid her back for my share of things."
Simone's eyes widen. "What?"
I nod.
"What the fuck? Like... she lied? Or..."
"I don't know. And honestly, I don't care. Friends who cut someone off without asking a single question aren't friends I want."
"Wow." She shakes her head. "Why'd you even have to pay her?"
"She had one of those loyalty cards and it was easier than splitting everything."
"Unless someone doesn't pay you back," she mutters.
"Or unless someone lies about it."
"Exactly." She nods. "I wouldn't want that kind of responsibility."
"Well, Mel did, and it worked for... years." I shrug. "I don't know what her issue is now, but my point is..." I say, getting back on track, "I'm not gonna go back to being..." I search for a word.
"A socialite diva?" Simone offers.
I give her a tight smile, not bothering to argue.
"Well, that's not gonna happen. I have you and Dom and Claire. It's more than enough."
"How is Claire?" she asks, having met the woman when she stopped by on her way to LA to sell her house and pack everything to move down here.
"She's good. Her son, though..." I trail off.
"Come on, tell me."
"Why, little sister? We shouldn't gossip."
"Tell me," she growls impatiently.
"Well..." I lean in. "Apparently Angel called Claire. Not to apologize. To complain that his wife won't let him move back home."
"Why won't she?" Simone asks.
"Because he has a girlfriend. And Claire told me Angel refuses to end the relationship."
Simone stares. "Wait a minute. He wants to move back in with his wife but keep the girlfriend?"
"Yup."
"What the fuck?" she blurts. "What kind of asshole is he?"
"Well, Claire's ready to disown him, so..." I shrug. "I mean, Brad may be an ass, but at least he had the decency to ask for a divorce when he got a girlfriend."
"So she is his girlfriend now?"
"Apparently." I put a hand on Sophie’s back when it looks like she may roll over again. "He called me last night and told me he and his lawyer have made the whole… divorce agreement thing."
"What the fuck?" Simone practically yells, not even glancing at the startled kids. "You've spent the whole morning talking about dates and Angels and this didn't come up?"
"There was only one Angel."
"Bronwyn."
I sigh.
“You cannot take this lightly."
"Brad said the firm he hired can handle both sides. I think it's mediation or something. We're represented by different lawyers from the same firm, so it's not..." I shrug. "You know. Ugly."
Simone looks horrified.
"You mean after everything that asshole has done, he expects you to trust him and what agreement,” she air quotes, “has he come up with?"
I wince.
"You cannot actually be considering this."
"I haven't signed anything," I defend. "I'm waiting. He said they're emailing me the settlement proposal, and then the lawyer's gonna call to explain everything. I agreed to listen, but I never said I wouldn't show it to my lawyer too."
"You have a lawyer?" she asks.
I nod.
"Yeah. The one I talked to when I was considering fighting custody. Samantha Judd. She's a partner at a firm with offices in both LA and Houston."
Simone lets out a low whistle. "Sheesh. That's a long drive."
I nod. "It is, but I'd rather have someone competent."
"Ooh." She nods approvingly. "Smart. I never should've doubted you."
"Yet you always do," I remark, sounding like the wisest person alive.
"Yet you always do," she mocks in a squeaky voice.
"You're almost forty."
"I'm thirty-two," she shoots back.
I wince. "Tell that to your face."
Her mouth drops open, but a voice interrupts.
"Really, girls?"
Simone and I both jump, turning around to find our parents standing there wearing identical smirks.
"How long have you been standing there?" Simone asks, eyes bulging.
"Long enough," Dad answers.
"Told you you shouldn't have given them a key," I whisper to her.
"It was for emergencies!" she yells at them.
Dad narrows his eyes. "The front door was open."
Simone's gaze snaps to me.
I smile innocently.
"Did I forget to close it?" I ask.
"Jesus, Bronwyn," Mom says immediately. "You're a mother now. You cannot be that reckless."
Now, any other time, I would've apologized. Promised I'd be more careful. But the way she says it, and the place our relationship is at now, I can't help the irritation that flashes through me.
Luckily Simone senses it. Or maybe she can feel the tension radiating off me.
Either way, she jumps in.
"So what are you guys doing here?"
"We wanted to see if you needed anything," Mom answers. "With Darren leaving you alone with the baby."
Jeez. She's really on a roll today.
"I asked him to go back to work," Simone replies tightly. "And we're not alone."
Mom opens her mouth again, but Dad speaks over her.
"Well, I just missed my girls."
His voice is light as he steps forward and crouches beside Sophie, who's trying to crawl toward the sound of his voice.
"Hello, young lady."
He tickles her back, making her squeal with delight.
Dad's face immediately softens.
"I'm gonna miss that sound when you girls leave," he says, and something in his voice cracks slightly.
"Dad." I sigh, picking up Penny and standing. Beside me, Simone rises too, her hand settling on my arm. She understands immediately. Dad getting emotional has always been my kryptonite.
For a moment nobody says anything. Then my mother walks over and quietly holds out her hands. Reluctantly, I pass Penny over, not wanting to lose my shield.
Mom adjusts Penny against her arms and watches her for a second before speaking.
"I'm gonna miss you too, you know." Her eyes lift to mine. "Despite what you may think, I'm not some monster."
I stare at her. Any other fight, that would've worked. I would've immediately reassured her.
"I never thought you were a monster," I reply just as quietly. "I just never expected my mother to treat me like that."
The words aren't loud, but they hit exactly where I mean them to. Mom's expression falls and guilt immediately twists in my stomach because hurting her still hurts me.
I'll always hate that.
Before she can respond, I turn and head for the kitchen.
It's not far.
Stupid Simone wanted one of those open-concept layouts where the living room bleeds into the kitchen, so unless I want to hide in one of the bedrooms or the bathroom, there's nowhere to actually escape to.
Still, the island offers some kind of protection. Not much, but enough that I can pretend I'm busy while trying to push my tears back.
There are hushed whispers behind me, but I pay them no mind. Not until I hear footsteps entering the kitchen. Judging by the silence that follows, it can only be one person.
Turning around, I cross my arms and wait.
I don't say anything letting the uncomfortable silence build.
Mom shifts slightly under my stare. I watch her throat visibly bob before she rubs her lips together.
"You've always been stubborn," she starts.
One of my brows immediately twitches.
Seeing my expression, she sighs. "I know that sounds like criticism, but it isn't."
I remain silent.
"Ever since you were a little girl, you'd see something you wanted and you wouldn't stop until you got it."
"You make me sound like a brat," I mutter.
"You weren't." Her lips curve slightly. "You never threw tantrums. You just... found another way."
I roll my eyes.
"When your cousin Wally got a Game Boy, you came home and made a deal with your father and me that if we bought you one, you'd clean your room forever."
I frown. "I don't remember that."
Mom tilts her head. "You were eleven."
"Sounds like a scam."
"It wasn’t." She smiles. "You cleaned your own room till the day you moved out."
I huff out a laugh.
"Even then, you had this drive." Her smile slowly fades. "And I remember thinking... she's going to do great things someday."
Something uncomfortable settles in my chest.
"And when you told me that instead of using the stability of Brad's career to build your own, you were going to become a housewife..." She trails off before shaking her head. "I was scared."
I look away. She’d been more disappointed than scared.
"Do you remember what I asked you?"
Unfortunately, I do.
I nod.
"I asked what would happen if you and Brad ever divorced. What would happen if you were forty-five with no recent work experience and no career to fall back on."
At the time, I'd written it off as nothing.
Mom worked her entire life. I'd convinced myself she couldn't stand seeing me stay home while she still had to work.
God.
I really had become a bitch.
"You told me not to worry," she continues quietly. "You said you'd be fine."
I shrug. "I don't really remember saying that, but it sounds like something I'd say."
Mom doesn't smile. "What's going to happen now, sweetheart?"
The question catches me off guard.
"Are you going to enter the workforce as an intern?" she asks softly. "As a receptionist? A waitress? How are you going to support yourself and Sophie?"
"Mom..." I shake my head. "I'll get alimony. And I can decide what I want to do. Sophie will always have Brad. She's not exactly going to go without."
"Sweetheart." She sighs heavily. "I know so many women who thought the same thing and got fucked over instead."
My eyebrows shoot up.
It's like hearing your elementary school teacher swear.
"They think they'll figure it out later," she says. "Then later becomes five years. Then ten. Meanwhile their husbands move on. They find younger wives, start new families, and suddenly you're the burden they can no longer carry."
I stare at her.
"Do you remember Jenna?"
I shake my head.
"We went to college together. Her husband passed away recently and left her in considerable debt. She's had to go back to work, and because she hasn't worked since she had her children..." She trails off, shaking her head. "She's making minimum wage."
The knot in my chest tightens.
I clear my throat.
"So you were mean to me because you were worried? You cut me off when I needed you. I still went through everything; I just didn’t have my mother with me."
Mom closes her eyes briefly.
"I shouldn't have said what I said." Her voice comes out tired. "I've been holding all of this in for so long that when it finally came out, it didn't come out the way I intended."
Reaching for my hand, she takes it between both of hers.
"I love that you get to do this," she says quietly. "I loved that you had a partner that was willing to do that for you and I know you didn’t sit on your ass shopping, believe me."
I blink. Because she kinda implied that’s exactly what she thought.
"But honey," she continues, squeezing my hand gently, "I worry about you. Especially now."
I scratch my head, not sure how to convince her that she can worry about me but also… support me.
"Mom, I can't stay with him just because you think I can't afford to leave."
"And you shouldn't." Her hand comes up to cup my cheek. "God, Bronwyn, if that's the only reason you'd stay, then I'd drag you to a lawyer myself."
A startled laugh escapes me.
"But please," she says, her expression turning serious again, "don't be one of those women who refuses alimony or child support because she's trying to prove a point."
I scoff. "Come on, Mom. You know me better than that."
Finally, she smiles. "Thank the Lord."
I laugh too, the tension between us easing for a minute.
"I'm also gonna..." I trail off, shrugging. "I don't know. Volunteer or something."
Mom waits.
"I still want to be there for Sophia," I continue. "That's not changing. But I also want to figure out what I like. What I want."
I stare down at our joined hands.
"And yeah," I admit. "Like you said, having a safety net probably wouldn't hurt."
Mom lets out a deep breath.
Relieved.
The expression softens her entire face, making her look more like the woman who used to sit through endless school plays and soccer games than the woman I've spent the last few days arguing with.
"I'm sorry for not being there for you." She smiles, tears shining in her eyes. "You're my baby. My first."
A lump forms in my throat.
"I am your favorite then?" I ask, trying to break the tension.
Mom pretends to zip her lips.
I let out a laugh. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, baby."
She pulls me into a hug and I go willingly, resting my cheek against her shoulder. It's embarrassing how much I've missed this.
Hopefully this will be the last time I have to argue with someone I love.
Seriously.
I'm exhausted.