Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Lila
The lunch with Mom was my idea.
I’d been putting it off for weeks because every time I thought about seeing her, guilt and anger twisted in my gut like a knife.
But avoidance only made it worse, so I texted her on a Wednesday morning.
Me: Lunch tomorrow? Just us. Coffee shop on High Corner Street?
She replied within minutes.
Mom: I’d love that. Noon?
I arrived early, nerves buzzing under my skin. The café was small with exposed brick, mismatched chairs, and the smell of fresh espresso and cinnamon rolls lingering in the air.
I claimed a corner table by the window, ordered a latte I didn’t really want, and watched the door.
She looked a lot different than I remembered, and hell, that had only been a couple of months ago. We talked regularly, but actually seeing her while I finished my courses had become rare. Now that I was done with school, I’d remedy that.
Her hair was shorter, blonder, and her soft green sweater made her eyes look brighter. She spotted me immediately, a smile spreading wide and genuine.
“Lila, sweetie.” She hugged me tight, smelling like the same floral perfume she’d worn since I was little. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too,” I said, hugging back. It wasn’t a lie. I had missed her. Just not the complicated knot of feelings that came with seeing her now.
We ordered right away, her getting an avocado toast and a turkey club for me.
We settled into the kind of small talk that felt safe.
My new job starting soon, her new apartment at the far end of town with her partner David, and the garden she was trying to keep alive on a balcony.
She talked about David the way she used to talk about Marcus years ago, with that same easy warmth and all those little details that made her glow. It stung more than I expected.
After the plates arrived, the conversation slowed.
She sipped her coffee, studying me over the rim.
“How’s the house?” she asked carefully. “Packing going okay?”
“Yeah. Slow but okay.” I poked at my sandwich. “Marcus is… working a lot. Long hours. We’re getting it done.”
She nodded, eyes softening. “He always was a hard worker. Too hard, sometimes.” A pause. “How is he? Really?”
The question landed heavily. I swallowed. “He’s fine. Tired but fine.”
She watched me for a long moment. “You’re not telling me everything.”
I met her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you look… conflicted.” She reached across the table, covered my hand with hers. “Talk to me, honey. Whatever it is.”
I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not the real one. So I gave her a half-truth instead. “It’s just weird being back.” I shrugged. She didn’t know Marcus had confided in me about her affair or how distant they’d been with each other.
Mom’s expression softened further. She squeezed my hand. “I get that. The house holds a lot of memories. Good ones and hard ones.”
We never talked about my father, about how he’d up and left her when she’d been pregnant with me. Although I didn’t agree with how things ended between her and Marcus, I could never say she hadn’t been the most incredible mom.
She watched me for another long moment. “You’re holding something back.”
I met her gaze. “I know about the affair, Mom.”
Her breath caught, and the color drained from her face for a second before she composed herself. “You… how long?”
“I just found out.” I kept my voice even. “I didn’t want to bring it up before. But yeah. I know.”
She looked down at her coffee, fingers tightening around the mug. “I’m sorry you had to carry that.”
“I’m not mad,” I whispered. “I feel bad for Marcus. He didn’t deserve to be hurt like that. And I don’t agree with cheating. I never will. But… I’m not judging you. Not really.” I hesitated, the irony burning in my chest. “Especially not now.”
Her eyes flicked back to mine, searching. “What do you mean?”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Almost told her everything. Instead, I gave her the softest version of the truth I could manage.
“I’m just… seeing things differently these days,” I said. “Life’s complicated. People fall out of love. They make mistakes. They find ways to feel alive again. I get it more than I used to.”
She exhaled slowly as if a weight had lightened.
“I fell out of love with him a long time ago,” she whispered.
“Years before the affair started. After you left for college, the house became quiet. We stopped talking about anything real. Stopped touching as if it mattered. It became routine. Work, dinner, sleep, repeat. I felt invisible. Like I was just… there.”
I listened, throat tight. I’d never heard her speak so plainly.
“The affair…” She looked down at her coffee. “It got emotional. Just someone who listened. I regret hurting Marcus. I regret the way it ended.”
Her eyes met mine. They were soft, honest, and a little sad.
“I know it’s complicated for you,” she continued.
She reached over and pulled me into a hug across the table. “I love you. Always. No matter what.”
“I love you, too.”
We finished lunch with lighter topics about her garden struggles and my new job, but the conversation stayed with me the whole drive home.
And here I was, falling for the man she’d once loved and left. The man who’d once been her husband. My stepfather.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, my stomach was in knots.
Marcus’s truck was there, early for once. I walked in softly and found him in the living room sorting through a box of old trinkets. He looked up when I entered, eyes tired but warm.
“Hey,” he said. “How was lunch?”
I set my keys down. “Good.”
He nodded slowly, and I crossed the room, stopping in front of him. I reached out and touched his arm. Marcus stood, closing the distance between us and cupping my face, thumb brushing my cheek.
My heart was racing when he leaned down and kissed me. It was slow, deep, and full of everything we couldn’t say out loud.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. “No regrets,” he murmured.
I closed my eyes. “No regrets.”
Even if this was the most taboo thing I’d ever wanted.