Page 29 of Embracing Us

“No. Max is back in London to collect some belongings. We are staying in Spain a bit longer than originally planned.” He listens silently as I speak. “He met her at the house unexpectedly, and she was a little worse for wear.”

“Where is he now?” he asks, bluntly.

“Staying with a friend. He asked me to call you.” Stan tuts distinctly at the inconvenience of being asked to check on his daughter. “She can be a bit awkward with him.” He laughs.

“Marina, awkward?” he spits. “She’s the fucking devil incarnated thanks to you.”

“That’s not fair,” I snap back. “I’m not her only parent.”

“No, but you’re the one that’s the bloody walkover. This spoilt brat act she has going on is your creation.” His voice increases in volume, the bitterness reverberating down the line. “And now you’ve skipped off with your lover-boy, she doesn’t know what to be doing.”

“She’s twenty-four, Stan.”

“But she acts sixteen. I’ll check on her.” The line goes dead before I can say anymore. I stare at the now disconnected handset. Asshole. Nothing was ever Stan’s fault. Even when he slept with someone else, I was to blame for being boring. Instead of feeling hurt by his comments, I’m angry because I know everything he said is untrue. For all the day has been full of upset, part of me lifts when I realise that all the issues that I believed were once mine in the past are someone else’s. My conversation with my ex-husband has shown me that I’m finally letting go of the belief I am always to blame.

Upon returning to the bar, I sit back down opposite Crystal and lift my glass of wine, raising it to my lips and drinking greedily. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asks. I shake my head.

“Let’s just say my fucking delinquent daughter has been at her tricks again.” Her eyebrows shoot up. “And I had to call my bastard of an ex-husband who tried to tell me it’s all my fault.”

“How did you respond to that?” she says. Concern flits across her features.

“I didn’t,” I tell her. “At the end of the day, they’re both unhappy adults. I’m the one who has moved on in life and is living how I want to. If I get upset, the only person I’m hurting is myself.” Her face splits into a wide grin. “And we both know that’s no way to live.” She holds my son in one arm, raising her glass with the other.

“To middle-aged women who find themselves by fucking younger men,” she announces.

“To middle-aged women who fuck younger men,” I agree. “It’s the bloody cure for everything.”

Back in my room, I put Jackson to bed, then do the same thing I did last night. I take the simple cream dress from the wardrobe, and hang it on the door. It's smooth satin with shoestring straps and a scoop neckline. The material skims my skin when I wear it, fitted but not tight. My fingers itch to try it on, and I give in within moments. After pulling the clothes from my body and leaving them in a pile on the floor, I take the beautiful garment from its hanger then slip it over my head. It falls into position perfectly.

I move to the full-length mirror, standing back so I can see from the top of my head to my toes. My hands lift my hair, piling the strands on top of my head. Securing it with one hand, I tease two curls down so I have one on either side on my face. My lips twist into a smile as I take myself in. Even in my late-night state, I’m happy with how I look. This is a new experience for me, actually being happy with my appearance.

Our wedding rings sit on my bedside table; they are propped up on the red velvet sparkling in the fading light. I mosey over, picking mine up and sliding it onto my finger. As I lift it to inspect the simple gold band, I rotate my hand from side to side. My mind wanders to my first wedding. I don’t remember feeling as sure I was doing the right thing. Marrying Stan was the expected course of action. I’m pledging myself to Max because I want to. The difference is startling. Committed to him forever, until I take my final breath, is exactly where I want to be. Of that, I have no doubt.

After placing my ring beside my future husband’s, I take Jackson’s outfit from the drawer it’s being stored in. He will look so cute in his mini chinos, shirt and navy waistcoat. The minute bow tie looks made for a doll. He will be his father’s best man when we say I do wearing a matching outfit to his father, though Max has refused to wear a bowtie. The one time they both tried them on, the sight of them together made my heart burst with love. A daddy with his son, the future generation of our little family. All in all, perfection. My boys.

My phone lights up with an incoming call. Max’s name flashes up on the screen. I grab for my phone where it’s sitting next to our rings. My hand misses, smashing the ring box across the room, the polished metal bouncing off the floor. “Shit,” I hiss as I press the connect call button. Lifting the handset to my ear, Max’s voice sounds down the line.

“Everything all right,” he asks. “You sound a bit stressed.”

“I’m fine,” I reply, my eyes scanning the room in search of the dropped rings. Where the hell are they? “I spoke to Stan. He’s going to check on Marina.”

“That’s good. I’m sorry for having to call earlier. It wasn’t something I wanted to tell you, but I had to. She’s a mixed-up girl.”

“I understand. I’m not sure what to do about her,” I say, my emotions bubbling to the surface. “I love her. She’s my daughter. But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t like her. I can’t understand why she hates me so much.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Beautiful. She hates herself. You’ve supported her the best you can. It’s up to her now to figure out what she wants in life.”

“You seem to have calmed down,” I say. “You sounded ready to detonate earlier.”

“I was, but then Jace and I had a chat. He made me realise that the issues aren’t ours. All we can do is be there and hope she finds her path.”

“Jace made you realise this?” I can’t hide my shock, and he laughs.

“He is quite switched on. The comic exterior is a façade. The man can read people,” he tells me. “He always calls me out anyway. I can’t hide anything from him.”

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