Page 52 of Sinful Promises

After a while, she prodded the pillow beneath her head and tutted. “Oh, come on. Do you really think I enjoyed moving around all the time?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I enjoyed scraping money together all the time?”

“Well, no, of course not. But you were always happy.”

“Darling, you were always so naive.”

Darling! My skin crawled.

I raised my eyebrows. Mother’s blunt statements hadn’t diminished like her failing body.

“All those men.” She shook her head. “I was fooling myself. None of them meant anything to me. They didn’t want me. They wanted my body, and I was stupid enough to give it to them. Oh my god. If you only knew. Those happy times were short-lived compared to my lows. When I hit bottom, it was like I’d eaten a giant ball of razor wire. It cut out all my insides.”

Mom’s declaration floored me.

She was never frank. She’d fucked a few Franks. Two, if I remembered correctly.

What she’d just said was probably the most truthful statement she’d ever made.

She reached for my hand again and squeezed. “I was the worst mother.”

I wanted to shake my head, to disagree . . . but I couldn’t. It was true.

Maybe she expected me to refute her claim because she paused and examined my expression. “You are so beautiful.”

My brows shot up. That was the last thing I’d expected to hear from her. Many times during my childhood Mother had shoved foundation my way, insisting that I used it to cover my freckles. Freckles that were now on full display given my lack of makeup.

“You don’t believe me. Do you?”

I lowered my eyes. Mother saying the truth was as rare as straight pubes.

“Daisy, you are beautiful. It’s the truth.”

I sighed. “Thanks.”

She tugged her dry lip into her mouth. “I hope your man tells you that.”

I huffed, and instantly regretted it. Shit!

Her nonexistent eyebrows shot up. “Oh, Daisy, don’t tell me you don’t have a man.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” The lie came off my tongue so easily it was a slap in the face. I am such a hypocrite. Here I was bitching about my mother’s endless lies, and yet I could voice them just as easily myself.

Her shoulders lowered as if the weight of the world had been lifted. “I’m so happy for you. Tell me about him. I want to hear everything.”

The joy on her face rolled back years on her aging complexion. I couldn’t retract the lie now. She seemed so pleased for me. So instead, I pictured Roman in my mind, which was delightfully easy to do, and prepared to describe the man who’d made my heart swell and subsequently shatter, all in the space of a few months.

“His name is Roman.” Even saying his name created a sense of peace inside me.

“Oh, wow. Sounds so exotic.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. He’s Italian. He grew up, and still lives, in a tiny town on the Italian Riviera. Have you ever heard of the Cinque Terre?”

“Oh yes, I have. You are so lucky to have been to all these wonderful places. I’ve never even left Australia.”

I wanted to tell her that my motivation for leaving was to get away from her and William, but I stopped myself. Instead, I said, “Roman has an enormous family. Four sisters, all who are married with children. His mom and dad are still together and he lives with them.”

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