Chapter Twenty-six #2
“I want to ask you, Liz, and I’ll be blunt. Are you sure you know what you’re doing with him?” her mother said the moment Liz met her look. Liz glanced at her sandwich, the cling wrap rustling as she fiddled with it.
“Yeah, I think so,” she replied, not knowing how to answer.
“Wanting a man and caring for a man are two different things, Elizabeth,” her mother said, reading her mind.
“I understand the want part. I look at him and I see Brett in his prime. Lord that man was hotter than the sun and burned just as bright wherever he went. But caring for him was a whole other kettle of fish. That care burned me to a crisp in the beginning.”
Liz hummed and bit into her sandwich. “But you married him.”
“I wanted to be burned, because I thought the two things were one and the same,” Peony replied, a tone in her voice that Liz wasn’t sure what to make of.
Was this her mother talking about desire?
Attraction? She’d already said that marrying Brett was for convenience, companionship . . . it didn’t make sense.
“I don’t get it. I knew you were doing something with him, I wasn’t a stupid kid, but then all of a sudden, you were engaged. No one even knew you were together, and BAM! You couldn’t have been that burned if—”
“And what are your plans with Jake?” her mother interrupted with an irritated sigh, changing the subject. “Because, honey, I see you. You care about him, and I am dreading what it will do to you if he leaves. You might think—”
“If? What do you mean by that?” Liz asked. There was no if.
“You never know what could happen,” her mother said.
“I don’t think there is a forever. This is a just-right-now!” Liz blurted back. “We’re filling a need for each other, period. When he goes back to New York? I’ll be fine because we’re not, you know, together.”
Her mother shook her head and sighed. “You will not be fine, Elizabeth Jaqueline Baker. I know you don’t see it that way.
I watched you two last night and just now.
That man is mad about you, and you are mad about him, even though you’re fighting it with every ounce of stupid in your body.
If he sews it up here and jets back to New York, it will hurt, for both of you. I guarantee it.”
Liz glared at her mom. Pink in Peony’s cheeks and a sparkle in her eye that hadn’t been there in a long time appeared, even though her mother’s frown was an indication she was talking about serious things.
Liz looked back down at her sandwich, the lone bite now a lump in her stomach.
Her mother might be a little bit right, but Liz wasn’t ready to admit that to her, or to herself, for that matter.
“Why would I complicate things now? We’ve set the ground rules. We were both pretty clear on those,” Liz grumped. She sounded petulant, and frustrated.
Her mother tsked and waved a hand. “Fiddlesticks. There are no rules when it comes to love.”
“Why are you meddling?” Liz asked. It was one thing to ask Liz what she was doing, but another to mess with her head when she’d already explained it wasn’t going anywhere and using that word.
“I’m not meddling, dear,” her mom said as she got up and moved to sit beside her, patting her on the arm.
“I want you to be happy, and to be honest, if you give that man out there a reason to stay, then that will be icing on the damned cake. I like him. I think he fits and he’s good for you. If you let him lo—”
“He’s got a life all the way across the fucking country, and . . . and . . .” Liz interrupted, not wanting her mother to utter that damned L word again. That word meant something she didn’t even want to contemplate.
Liz jumped to her feet. She didn’t want to talk about this right now, and she definitely could not talk about it with her mother. Her hackles were up, and she didn’t want to yell at Peony or get mad, because she knew her mother was just being her mother but—
“I have to get back to work. Thanks for the chat,” she snapped icily, and left the room before she said anything else she might regret.
She banged out the back door, took an angry bite from her sandwich, and chewed, stewing. Her temper was razor-thin, and the confusion that had shoved in with what her mother said had cracked that firmly held control she had exerted over her arrangement with Jake.
Damn it, why did her mother have to say it like that?
That stupid L word flashed in her brain, and she growled.
She rubbed at her eyes, more tired now than angry, and realized that she was indeed on her way to being burned, if what her mother said was getting to her as much as it did, so quickly.
Could she be going down that path again?
No. She couldn’t even contemplate it. It was not a good idea, and her stomach flipped and her chest tightened at the thought.
“Fuck—” she muttered and walked back to the stable. “Goddamn it, Mother, fu—”
She stopped in the path, the swearing not even helping her loosen the ball of unease, and leaned over, willing her stomach to settle. She had to figure this shit out. The mere mention of something more serious was tying her in knots. Obviously that meant she wasn’t ready by a country mile.
But last night there had been something else, and maybe that was why she was so wound up about it. If they were just casually banging, she wouldn’t have reacted the way she did. Right?
Fuck. Black and white was quickly blurring into a whole lot of gray.