28. Georgia
When I first learned that my mother knew of my father’s infidelity, I didn’t speak to her for weeks. Mom and I look alike: the same blonde hair and feline green eyes. But when I looked into hers on that day, all I could see was my future if I went down the same path as hers.
It scared the shit out of me.
You see, growing up, Grace Adams was a force to be reckoned with. She had this magnetism to her that stuck to everyone; she’d catch your eye and never let you go. My mother taught me to be kind, but to never take any bullshit—especially from a man.
So when I found Dad and his mistress in my room, I went to her immediately.
There wasn’t a second thought in my mind—I knew I had to tell her.
The mother I grew up with would never find forgiveness for a man who could hurt and humiliate her the way that my father had that night.
The mother I grew up with would’ve stormed into that room, cursed my father out, packed our bags, and gotten us out of there in an instant.
The woman I saw reflected back at me that day was not my mother.
She was a hollow shell of the woman I knew. Her eyes were sunken in, dark circles showing off her lack of sleep over the past few months. She’d lost weight and her hair, the once-glowy array of bombshell curls, was lifeless.
That woman wasn’t my mother that day.
She was a woman who’d gone through the toughest year of her life in silence, aware of her husband's infidelity, and stuck in the house where they raised their daughter. A woman who’d seen the evidence and stayed. She was strong yet idiotic all the same.
But at the end of the day, she was my mother… and I love her.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m graduating in May… Guess those summer courses paid off.” I chuckle quietly, switching the phone from one ear to the next as I fill Agnes’s food and water bowls.
My mom lets out a quiet squeal, and I picture her dancing around her kitchen in Paris, a little mug of espresso in her hands.
After she and Dad finalized their divorce four months ago, Mom made her way to the City of Lights.
She’d always wanted to live in Paris as she’d grown her fine fragrance business.
Although the home of fine fragrance is about an eight-hour drive south of Paris, she fell in love with the city immediately.
Mom sighs contentedly. “I’m so proud of you, Peach. I’ve always known you could do it.”
A blush creeps up the back of my neck as I chuckle. “No, thank my tutors these past three years. College would be absolute hell had I not found a tutor who could help with my dyslexia…”
I was diagnosed with the condition in kindergarten after failing to recognize the difference between multiple letters and my inability to read certain fonts. I still struggle heavily with my dyslexia all this time later, but I’ve gotten a lot better at reading with time.
I met Cleo and Jace the year after I was diagnosed, and the two of them helped me throughout school, making sure to give me their notes and explain readings when I didn’t understand them.
“I’m serious, Georgia. A few years ago, you were a tiny little thing running around the backyard with Cleo, and now you’re graduating college a year early—”
“Well, technically, I’m on time,” I reply as she gives me an exasperated sigh.
“Let me have this, Peach… When’s grad day? Have you already designed your dress? Who am I kidding? You’ve probably sketched and sewn it by now—”
I cut her off with my laughter, “Slow down, woman. I can only think so fast… My graduation is on—”
I check the calendar on the fridge, my eyes lock on my graduation day, and then trail down to the invitation attached to the fridge. Sighing, my smile drops.
“Uh, Mom… I’ll call you—”
“It’s close to the wedding, isn’t it?” she asks, and the pain in her voice breaks me a little.
Love hasn’t worked out in this family… They’re a prime fucking example of this. Love is supposed to be patient and kind, yet when I think of the notion… all I’ve ever seen is hurt. Love hurts, and it’s fucking scary.
Mom’s voice crackles over the line. “It’s okay to tell me if it is. I’m not upset, trust me.”
Exhaling, I nod even though she can’t see me.
“It’s the week before the wedding… Derek thinks that we should skip the wedding, but…” I trail off, not knowing where to go with this.
She and I haven’t so much as said my father’s name, and now we’re talking casually about the fact that he’s marrying the woman who helped him step out on his marriage.
“He’s your father…” she says.
“Yup.” I sigh. “But it’s fine. Derek’s gonna be there with me.”
Mom gasps, her excitement contagious through the line as I open the fridge. I have classes today, and both Deli and Derek are already off to school and class.
My eyes land on the green smoothie that I prepared last night. I reach for it, pausing as my mother speaks.
“How is Derek and Deli—my grandbaby? Have they been okay?” she asks, her voice filled with hope as my eyes land on the green lunch bag nestled in the fridge.
Raising a brow, I take the bag out, bypassing my drink, and set it on the counter.
“They’re okay, Mom. Derek took her to school this morning, and then he—” I open the lunch bag and grin as I pull out the neatly scribbled note placed on the food container.
Eat up, darlin’. The more you eat, the more energy you’ll have tonight :)
Rolling my eyes with a stupid grin on my face, I adjust the phone to my ear. “He packed me lunch today.”
My mother gushes as I chuckle.
What am I going to do with these two?
Mom and Derek met over FaceTime when I first moved in with him and Delilah. She was more upset than anything when she found out I’d gotten married while she was in a different country, and we may have told her we dated for a year before deciding to elope, just to take a bit of the sting away.
She didn’t believe a single word, but when she met Delilah over FaceTime, she loosened up to the idea of Derek and me. She and Dels now have weekly calls where they drink their tea and chat about God knows what while I sketch.
“He’s a keeper, Georgia—oh! I’m getting a call from my chief of marketing, Peach. Love you, gotta go!” she exclaims, ending the call as the word “love” leaves my tongue.
Nodding my head, I grin down at the lunch and pack it back up.
Maybe he is a keeper.
It doesn’t take long for me to get to campus; with it still being the middle of the morning, almost everyone is off the road and already at work or school.
I’m walking on campus, headphones in, when someone bumps into me, knocking my smoothie out of my hands as they do so.
Frowning, I look down at the green substance that took me almost a full container of spinach to create and sigh as I turn to the person, but they’re already looking at me. Their arms are crossed over their chest, a challenging smirk on their lips as they look me up and down.
“Watch where you’re going,” Rosemary says with a roll of her neck, looking me up and down with disdain as I scoff, ignoring her.
I pick up the messy cup and huff as a bit of the smoothie lands on my shoe. “Fucking great.”
I’m just happy I still have my lunch… Turning away from her, I’m about to walk away when she speaks up again.
“He’s not gonna stay for long, y’know,” she slews, her words hitting their target as I whirl on her, the cup in my hands forgotten.
The two of us stare at one another, neither of us backing down.
“What did you just say?”
She takes a step closer. “He’ll leave you.”
Strike one.
My chuckle lacks humor as my tongue pokes in my cheek. “Like you left them? Newsflash, he’s not going anywhere, Delilah’s not going anywhere, and neither am I. Watch yourself, Rosemary. I’d hate for you to cross a line that you can’t cross back over.”
There’s a fire in her eyes, one that I know I can extinguish with the mere flick of my tongue and the sound of my words.
She wants to have power over me, wants me to be wounded by her words—I’m not.
If anything, I’m more annoyed that I’m running late to class than the fact that she’s in front of me.
She takes a step even closer to me, looking up at me slightly.
“You’re just a sorry excuse for me. His mom told me everything.
As soon as DJ gets his inheritance, he’ll leave you and come crawling back to me.
I bet all he uses you for is sex—has he told you about his dad?
Do you know what makes Derek Perez tick? What makes him come?”
Strike two.
“Are you done?” I ask with a tilt of my head, annoyed.
Her words hurt, but they lack merit. If my self-worth revolved around the way a man felt about me, then maybe, just maybe, I’d be a crying mess. It’s a good thing that I know my worth and have never needed a man to define it. I laugh in her face.
“He’s mine!” she screams in my face as Sienna runs up to us, pushing Rosemary back.
I can’t help the cackle that comes out of my mouth as she slips on the smoothie she made me spill.
“And yet, legally—he’s mine.” I grin, holding up my left hand and my middle finger on my right.
Rosemary tries to fight Sienna off as Sienna pushes her away from me; the two of them scream back and forth at one another before Sienna gets the last word.
“Enough!” she yells, silencing the redhead. “Walk away, Daisy. I don’t know what the fuck your issue is with my best friend, but you’ve got three seconds to get the fuck away from us.”
Rosemary’s chest heaves, her eyes wild as she looks between the two of us. I see it playing before my eyes before she follows through with it. She looks me over, giving me the nastiest look she can muster—it’s pitiful.
I try to keep my hands to myself, and violence is never the answer, but when she hits three strikes—the bitch is out.
“Walk. Away,” Sienna growls, taking a step closer to Rosemary, but she moves faster.
Everything feels like it moves in slow motion as Rosemary steps around Sienna, inhales a sharp breath, scratches her throat, and spits at me.
Strike Three.