Page 58 of Kiss From A Rose

"No," I protested, changing how our hands were tangled up so I could now hold his. "I have a complex about not being educated. That's not on you.And—"

"I've been to therapy, too, Mama." He smiled wanly at me. "I know I've been terrible to you.Pleasedon't say I haven't cause that would be a lie."

I didn't want to hurt my son by digging up the past, but he was right; I had to be honest with him. I'd brought all this upon myself by not speaking my truth.

"Yes, son, you hurt me when you made fun of me for getting a quote wrong or talking about something you didn't think I had the right to discuss."

It was like cracking my chest open and letting him look in and see the hurt, the festering wounds, all of it. I let go of his hands. It was so hard to say these things, harder when I was touching him, wanting nothing more than to comfort him. "It hurt to know my children don't respect me." I didn't bring up Gray's disrespect because I'd never speak poorly of him with the children.

He nodded. "I know. I didn't respect you, Mama, but…that's on me and not you. I've been struggling."

"What?"

He nodded and gave me a self-deprecating half-smile. "I've been struggling at school. It was harder than I thought it would be, and I felt ashamed of myself. I didn't tell Dad because he's this hotshot architect. I don't think I'll ever be that good. Willow is going to become a doctor. So, the only way to make myself feel better was by…I'm so sorry…by making sure someone else was below me in the family, so I wouldn't be dead last."

His honesty was stunning.

It was clear he had been to therapy, I thought with some relief. It had made a big difference for me, and I knew it would help him.

"What are you struggling with?" I asked.

He let out a harsh laugh. "I hurt you, and you still want to know what's bothering me? Can’t you see how wonderful you are? You’re so generous, Mama, and I was out there judging people by their education and money instead of their goodness. But you—you’re the best of us. You volunteer, you’re alwaysthere for everyone. Hell, Mama, you were even kind to Grandma, and she was a bitch to you."

These were words I never thought I'd hear from my children or husband. I never thought anyone even noticed what I did, and how hard I worked to be a good mother and wife. The fact was that he had eased my aching heart a little.

"Don't call your grandma that," I scolded softly.

"She was a bi…," he grumbled, trailing off.

"It's okay, Jude." I put my hands on his. "You're my son, and I love youunconditionally. That willneverchange." I chuckled softly, adding a teasing quality to my tone, "Maybe how much I liked you went up and down from time to time, but never my love for you."

He grinned. "I love you too, Mama.And I'm so sorry. I promise I'll do better every day with you. Every fucking day."

"Jude, language," I reprimanded.

He laughed now, a clean laugh. "Yeah, Mama. I'll be keepin' my language decent around you." He sobered then. "You raised us, you know that? You taught us the difference between right and wrong, and yet I fu…messed up big time. I'm sorry about that."

"Let it go, Jude. I have." I patted his hand. "We look forward, okay? There's so much to look ahead to rather than back."

"It's going to take some time for me to come to terms with who I became around you," he told me quietly. "And I'll never not feel guilty, but I will put it behind me, eventually. I'm going to need time."

"Take all the time you need, son. I'm not goin' anywhere."

He arched an eyebrow and waved a hand to indicate the house we were in.

I laughed. "Well, not emotionally, at least."

"You like livin' here?" he asked.

"Very much. I love this island, this house. Malou…she's leaving the B&B to me. She has it free and clear."

"You…ah…you want to live here?"

"Yeah. I want to run this place. I'm good at it. I've been taking care of Malou's books for years. Maintaining her website, bookings, and all that." I looked around the kitchen and through the large windows at the rising day. "I find it peaceful here. I like the idea of earning a living, being independent."

"Mama, Dad has a lot of money," Jude pointed out.

I took a deep breath and let it out. "It'shismoney, Jude, not mine."

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