Page 89 of Muddy Messy Love

She laughs at the ceiling. “Oh, Avery Lee, forever the drama queen.” Her hand swats away vacant air. “Don’t worry, it didn’t work out anyway.”

“It’s over already? How long were you married?” I scramble to do the maths. She’s been gone for what, seven months? That’s usually the maximum length of her relationships, sure. But marriage? This is extreme, even for her.

“We’re still married. Just not together,” she clarifies.

“Is that why you’re here?”

She swallows another sip of tea, her pinkie poised in the air as she grips the ornate handle. Shit. I do that too. “If you mustknow, I need a place to stay until my divorce is finalised. Are you happy now? It’s difficult to talk about, you know? My heart is irreparably broken.” Mum presses a hand to her chest and knits her over-plucked brows, but I’m not buying it. Her eyes are filled with cunning—not hurt. Her gaze is sharp—not soft.

“Who is he?”

“He…is a bastard,” she says with the passion of a Broadway star.

I shake my head. The woman is exacerbating. “What’s his name? What does he do? How did you meet? When were you married?”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Dr. Henry Wilson. I met him on the internet. We married in February. Are you happy now?”

“February…but that’s a few weeks after you left. How?”

Mum’s chin nudges higher. It’s a defence reflex, one of her favourites. “I met him before I left. I’ll have you know we chatted for months.”

My heart free-falls into my Ugg boots. “He’s why you left?” Why she moved to the middle of fucking nowhere? It’s all starting to make sense.

“I wanted my life back, Avery Lee. You were done with school. It was time to stand up and fend for yourself. You weren’t easy, you know? Always so…” She looks to the heavens for the right word, circling her hand like a waving royal. “Needy,” she settles on, meeting my eyes. The amused spark in hers is subtle but glints like a tiny shard of glass. The comment is intended to hurt, and it succeeded. My stomach turns in a sickly somersault.

Scanning my memory, I try to find examples of needing more than a typical child would. I went to school without protest. Brought home good grades. Skipped a year ahead and caught up to Jen. I didn’t insist on fancy clothes or shoes. I imposed my own curfews and made my way around the place as soon as I was old enough.

I furrow my brows. If anything, she was the needy one. Always wanting more. Nothing ever good enough. Appease her on one front and twenty more demands arise.

She clears her throat and breaks my daze. “Have you finished interrogating me?”

I stare at her silently while her words circle my head and drop into place.Dr.Wilson. “Is he rich?”

The teacup halts halfway to her mouth as she stiffens with a scowl. “How dare you. I will not justify myself to you, Avery Lee. This conversation is over.”

And just like that, I know in my heart of hearts Dr. Wilson—stepdaddy dearest—is loaded, and Mum’s awaiting payday. She never used to be like this. Before…Dad. At least, I don’t think so. But in the right conditions, rot breeds.

I rub my forehead with the palm of my hand and pray for the ability to travel back in time so I can phone Beth and beg her not to let Mum stay. This is a disaster.

Footsteps sound on the stairs. Cole appears like a guiding light on rough dark seas, dressed in yesterday’s jeans and soft grey tee. Despite that, he looks as fresh as morning dew, and his mere presence unknots my muscles. With him by my side, I’m stronger—better—no longer that pathetic girl. I can handle this. “Hey, you.” I smile as the memory of the promise he made last night twirls around my heart.

I’m not going anywhere, Avery.

His eyes glint, and his dimple deepens as he strides over and drops a kiss to the top of my head. “Morning, Angel.”

Angel.

The name that turns me to goo. Sparkly glitter goo.

I take a deep breath to recentre. What Mum and I need is a fresh start. We’ve had time apart. I’m an adult now. Surely things have changed. It’s time we re-established our relationship in a healthier way—with respectable boundaries, courtesy, andcommon decency. I’m sure if I’m willing to try, I can make it work. After all, Beth manages.

With a deep breath, I rally my politest tone. “Mum, this is Cole. He’s my…” Hesitating, I crane my neck to meet Cole’s curious smile. He offers an encouraging nod. “Boyfriend,” I finish, scrunching my nose. The word sounds as giddy as I prayed it wouldn’t.Boyfriendfeels inadequate and juvenile, but what other option is there? “And, Cole, this is my mother, Sheila Wilson.” I struggle to keep my voice even over Mum’s new last name but manage it. Just.

Holding his hand out to shake, Cole approaches Mum. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wilson. I apologise for our earlier state.”

Mum’s hand rises, palm side down and bent at the wrist, in a silent request he kiss it. Her eyes sparkle when Cole obliges, and I ignore the acid building in my veins and keep my smile plastered on. I’ve never seen her do this. Not once in my life.

As Cole’s lips land, Mum’s smile grows seductive. Her hooded eyes smoulder, and her voice comes extra breathy. “Call me Sheila, please.”

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