“I’ve already thought you dead this week, and now this,” she sobs.
“Mom—it’s not what you think.”
“Don’t even try it, Christian. I heard you, I heard what you said. That she taught you to fuck.”
She’s said it again!
I flinch—this isn’t her. She doesn’t swear. It’s mortifying to think I have something to do with this. The thought of hurting Grace is excruciating. I’d never want to hurt her. She saved me. And all at once I’m overwhelmed by my shame and my remorse.
“I knew something happened when you were fifteen. She was the reason, wasn’t she? The reason you suddenly calmed down, seemed to focus? Oh, Christian. What did she do to you?”
Mom! Why is she overreacting? Do I tell her that Elena brought me under control? I don’t have to tell her how. “Yes,” I murmur.
She groans again. “Oh, Christian. I’ve gotten drunk with that woman, spilled my soul to her so many nights. And to think…”
“My relationship with her has nothing to do with your friendship.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Christian! She abused my trust. She abused my son!” Her voice cracks, and once more she buries her face in her hands.
“Mom—it didn’t feel like that.”
She stands back and swats me around the head, making me duck.
“Words fail me, Christian. Fail me. Where did I go wrong?”
“Mom, this is not your fault.”
“How? How did it start?” She holds her hand up and continues hurriedly. “I don’t want to know that. What will your father say?”
Fuck.
Carrick will go batshit.
Suddenly I’m fifteen again, dreading another of his interminable lectures on personal responsibility and acceptable behavior. Christ, that’s the last thing I want.
“Yes, he’ll be mad as hell,” Mom interjects, correctly interpreting my expression. “We knew something had happened. You changed overnight—and to think it was because you got laid by my best friend.”
Right now, I want the floor to swallow me up.
“Mom—it’s been, it’s done, it’s gone. She did me no harm.”
“Christian, I heard what you said. I heard her cold response. And to think…” She puts her head in her hands once more. Suddenly her eyes fly up to meet mine, and widen in horror.
Fuck. What now?
“No!” she breathes.
“What?”
“Oh no. Tell me it’s not true, because if it is—I’ll find your father’s old pistol and I’ll shoot the bitch.”
Mom!
“What?”
“I know that Elena’s tastes run to the exotic, Christian.”
For the second time this evening, I feel slightly dizzy. Shit. She must not know this.
“It was just sex, Mom,” I mutter quickly—let’s shut that down right now. No way am I exposing my mother to that part of my life.
She narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t want the sordid details, Christian. Because that’s what this is—nasty, sordid, squalid. What kind of woman does that to a fifteen-year-old boy? It’s disgusting. To think of all the confidences I’ve shared with her. Well, you can be sure she’ll never set foot in this house again.” She presses her lips together in determination. “And you should cease all contact with her.”
“Mom, um…Elena and I run a very successful business together.”
“No, Christian. You cut your ties with her.”
I stare at her, speechless. How can she tell me what to do? I’m twenty-eight years old, for fuck’s sake.
“Mom—”
“No, Christian—I’m serious. If you don’t, I will go to the police.”
I pale. “You wouldn’t.”
“I will. I couldn’t stop it then, but I can now.”
“You’re just real mad, Mom, and I don’t blame you—but you’re overreacting.”
“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting,” she yells. “You are not going to have any kind of relationship with someone who can abuse a troubled, immature child! She should come with a health warning.” She’s glowering at me.
“Okay.” I hold my hands up defensively and she seems to compose herself.
“Does Ana know?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Good. You shouldn’t start your married life with secrets.” She frowns as if she’s speaking from personal experience. Vaguely, I wonder what that’s about, but she recovers herself.
“I’d be interested to hear what she thinks of Elena.”
“She’s kind of in your camp.”
“Sensible girl. You’ve fallen on your feet with her, at least. A lovely young woman who’s the right age. Someone you can find happiness with.”
My expression softens.
Yes. She makes me happier than I ever thought possible.
“You are to end it with Elena. Cut all ties. You understand?”
“Yes, Mom. I could do that as a wedding present to Anastasia.”
“What? Are you crazy? You’d better think of something else! That’s hardly romantic, Christian,” she scolds.
“I thought she’d like that.”
“Honestly, men! You have no idea sometimes.”
“What do you think I should give her?”
“Oh, Christian.” She sighs, then offers me a small wan smile. “You really haven’t taken in a word, have you? Do you know why I’m upset?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Tell me, then.”
I gaze at her and sigh. “I don’t know, Mom. Because you didn’t know? Because she’s your friend?”
She reaches up and gently strokes my hair, like she used to when I was small. The only place she would touch me, because it was the only place I let her.
“For all those reasons and because she abused you, darling. And you are so deserving of love. You’re so easy to love. You always have been.”
There’s a burning sensation at the back of my eyes.
“Mom,” I whisper.
She puts her arms around me, calmer now, and I hug her in return.
“You’d better go find your bride-to-be. I’m going to have to tell your father when the party’s over. No doubt he’ll want to talk to you, too.”
“Mom. Please. Do you have to tell him?”
“Yes, Christian, I do. And I hope he gives you hell.”
Fuck.
“I’m still mad at you. But madder at her.” Her face loses all trace of humor. I’d never realized how scary Grace could be.
“I know,” I murmur.
“Go on, off you go. Find your girl.” She releases me, steps back, and rubs her fingers under her eyes to wipe away her smudged makeup. She looks beautiful. This wonderful woman, who truly loves me, like I love her.
I take a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Mom.”
“I know. Go.”
I lean down and gently kiss her forehead, surprising her.
I walk out of the room to find Ana.
Shit. That was heavy.
ANA’S NOT IN THE kitchen.
“Hey, bro, want a beer?” Elliot asks.