Chapter 34
PETAL
“Hell of a week you’ve had, huh?” Mom says, planting a kiss on my forehead.
My mom is not a natural mother. It’s like she’s missing the nurturing gene that seems to drive most moms. She thinks babies are pains in the ass, toddlers are wicked little demons, and teenagers raging psychotics.
I honestly don’t even think she really liked me all that much until I was eighteen and could register to vote.
That doesn’t mean she didn’t keep me clothed, fed, and safe from harm. She went through the motions. I just don’t think she got a lot of joy from it. But that was then.
This is now.
If we could spend most every waking moment together, that would not be enough for her. And as much as she can be a pain in the ass, she has my back in a way that would shame most momma bears.
“It’s been interesting, Mom,” I say.
Sometimes, you just need your mother. She wasn’t even mad to hear my marriage to Rake was a ruse to get him good publicity. She’s just glad I’m okay.
“C’mon. Let’s sit down. I had the housekeeper make lamb chops, your favorite.”
Wow. Mom doesn’t like lamb chops, and only busts them out when she thinks I need a boost.
And, I guess I do, even in the face of the incredibly sexy session I had the day before with Rake.
It killed me when he got up to leave, like he took all the air in the cottage with him, but he had an early practice the next morning.
Surprising the hell out of myself, I felt empty and despondent, at least until I made myself a cup of tea and turned on the latest Hallmark movie.
“How’s your dinner, honey?” Mom asks.
Her question makes me realize I’ve been stuffing my face for several minutes straight. I set down my fork to force a break. “Sorry, Mom. This is so freaking good.”
She reaches out and pats my hand. “I thought this might work some magic on you. Now tell me everything that happened at that party at the Fairmont. So far, I only know what I read in the news, and we know how inaccurate that always is.”
I take a sip of wine. She busted out the good stuff tonight, I guess in my honor. I mean, everything her winery makes is good, but she has what she calls ‘weeknight wines,’ and then the fancy stuff. In her own way, she’s doing what she can to take care of me tonight.
“It was crazy, Mom. I wish I could say the whole story the press reported was BS, but it’s not.
Apparently, some locker room attendant overheard Rake talking to one of his friends, and sold his story to a sports reporter who can’t stand the team.
That very reporter announced his finding at the party and it’s been a shitshow ever since. ”
Setting down her fork, she stares out the window. She doesn’t look happy. “Honey, does Rake know what he’s subjected you to? How this is affecting not only his life, but also yours?”
“He does Mom. He came up to the cottage yesterday to check on me. He apologized. Told me how terrible he feels. And because there were press camping out there, he hired a couple security guards.”
She drums her perfectly manicured fingertips on the tablecloth. “You know, men like Rake are… fun. They are a treat. They are not a meal. If you get my meaning.”
She looks at me hard.
“Well, I thought Andy was a meal, and look where that got me.”
Andy, ‘a meal’. What a piece of shit he turned out to be. Just goes to show.
Mom nods slowly. “So… I’m thinking you have feelings for Rake? Or something like that?”
It’s such early days, I don’t know how to put my thoughts into words. So, I keep it simple. “I… enjoy his company. And he enjoys mine.”
“Public relationships are hard. I suppose I don’t need to tell you that. But if you think he’s a good man, Petal, I say go for it. You’re smart and aside from being deceived by Andy, your instincts are usually spot on.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, my voice breaking.
Why am I being such a wuss lately, ready to cry at the drop of a hat?
I clear my throat loudly and suck down the rest of my wine. “I gotta get back to Sonoma. I told Tina I’d open for her tomorrow. I can’t believe that woman hasn’t fired me yet with all the press and looky-loos hanging around—”
The doorbell rings and Mom and I look at each other.
“Expecting someone?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No.”
The housekeeper hustles to the front door, and I hear quiet conversation. Probably some sort of solicitation, a kid selling chocolate for his school fundraiser or something like that. But she pokes her head into the dining room.
“Petal, someone is here for you.”
Mom wrinkles her face. “Someone’s here for Petal? Are your girlfriends coming over, honey?”
I shake my head no and push back from the table. “Let me see who it is.”
The housekeeper waits for me, then heads back to the kitchen.
I pull open the partially-closed front door and my stomach drops. My amazing dinner is suddenly doing funny things to my stomach and the taste of delicious wine on my tongue goes sour.
It’s Andy. Andy Stackhouse. The guy I thought was a ‘meal’, to use my mother’s term, who turned out to be nothing more than a rotten egg.
I stand there, my mouth too dry to speak.
“Hey, Petal. Saw your car out front.”
“Why are you here?”
Mom shows up next to me. “Hello, Andy,” she says quietly. Then she gets close to my ear. “You okay, Petal?”
I nod, and she leaves us.
He juts his chin forward, confident as always. “I wanted to talk.”
“So, you were just driving by and happened to see my car. Andy, you live clear across town. You don’t even like this part of the city.”
He looks down at his perfectly polished shoes.
“Look, that doesn’t matter. May I come in?” he asks.
I look at his slicked-back blond hair and his deep brown eyes. They used to make my heart jump. It was so hard to believe someone like Andy Stackhouse wanted to be with me.
And now I can’t understand why I ever wanted to be with him. Everything about this man makes me sick.
The deceit.
The hypocrisy.
The lies.
“No. No, you can’t come in, Andy. And you shouldn’t have stalked me to my mother’s house. That’s fucking creepy.”
His eyes pop at being told off. He’s not used to being treated this way, golden boy that he is.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets, not yet defeated. “Fine. I understand. You are angry with me, as you should be.”
A patronizing tone rolls off him in big, ugly lumps.
“But look. Given the recent news, that your ‘marriage,’”—he has the nerve to use air quotes—“was not, um, the real thing, I thought we might, you know, talk.”
“About what?”
He looks up and down the street and chuckles. Like he can’t believe I’m not just jumping into his slimy arms.
This would be fun if it wasn’t so outrageous.
“I want to talk about us, Petal. I can’t tell you how great it felt to discover your thing with that dumb hockey player was a farce. I want us to give it another try. We’ll be more open. More honest.”
“From what I recall, Andy, I was always open and honest. You’re the one who needs to get his shit together. Tell me, what happened with Jessica?”
As if I don’t already know. I just want to hear him say it.
“She... went back to her old boyfriend. He finally proposed to her.”
“So sweet,” I say. “Maybe you’ll be invited to their wedding.”
“Okay. I can see we’re not getting anywhere with this—”
“You’re the one not getting anywhere. And you never will. Please do not show up at my mother’s house again, or any other place where I’m likely to be. And for your information, Rake, whom you so kindly called a dumb hockey player, and I are doing great.”
He wrinkles his face. “That’s not what I read in the news—”
I lean out the front door and right into his face, my patience exhausted. I’m pissed. Yes, I’m fucking pissed now, more pissed than I was even the day I left him at the church. The fury boiling inside me has reached its peak, and is about to explode, like a poorly watched pressure cooker.
Andy’s lucky I don’t have a weapon on me because I want to hurt him. Badly.
“It doesn’t matter what you read in the news, because you don’t matter. Now GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.”
I slam the door and turn to see my mother, a hand over her mouth, silently shaking with laughter.