Page 138 of Beautiful Thing

Shoving my roller into Nolan’s hands, I rush over to Mom in a hurry. “I…It…It wasn’t…We weren’t…”

“You weren’t what?!” Mom retorts sharply.

“We weren’t trying to hurt anyone,” I start. “Layla just agreed to do me a favor and be my wedding date, so I didn’t have to take some stranger or go alone. Then, things, well, they got out of hand, I guess.” I wrap my arms around her shaking shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I should have never deceived you like that, and—”

She shrugs out of my hold before I can finish.

“When I was at the market earlier and I heard that Layla was moving out of your house, I had to come here and get the story myself. But I wasn’t expectingthis.” She’s never looked more disappointed in me. “I refuse to believe that it was fake, Archer. Because I was there. I saw you and Layla with my own eyes.” She roughly wipes at her teary eyes. “I haven’t seen you like that since you were a teenager. You werehappywith her.”

“Mom. It’s complicated.”

“Well, tough luck, Archer,” she says mercilessly. “Because this is one of those times when the hard thing is worth fighting for.” Her warm palms come up to grab my cheeks. “Be the man you could be if you stopped holding back. Be the man you could be if you dropped your bullshit and fixed things with that sweet girl.”

“I…I’m…” my mouth flaps closed.

Mom stares at me expectantly. “You’rewhat, son?”

I’m starting to forget all my excuses. The only reason I’m not trying to convince Layla to be with me is because I’m scared out of my mind. Which is a pretty embarrassing thing to admit to your mother when she’s cussing you out.

I turn around and find the guys still staring at me, too, with judgment in their eyes. Is Nolan right? Do I really just give up when things get hard? Shit. That’s not me. That’s not who I want to be.

I face my mother again. I give a single nod. “I’m going to put my shit aside, and I’m going to fight for Layla.”

Mom grins solemnly, patting my cheek. “Of course you are.”

57

LAYLA

Sky’s head lolls against the side of his carseat as my vehicle climbs the dark mountain roads on my way home.

It was weird, sitting across from my mother, watching her try to play with her grandson as he squirmed in her arms and looked at her like a stranger.

Dinner was uncomfortable, to say the least. The French fries were cold and the atmosphere in our small booth at the back of the diner was awkward. The conversation was hard, but important and honest.

Mom and I skipped over the small talk and dove right into the deep end.

“I asked him for a divorce and he said…‘okay’.” She’d sobbed into her napkin. “Aftertwenty-nine yearsof being miserable in that marriage, all he had to say for himself was ‘okay’,” she’d repeated as if in disbelief.

“What response were you expecting?” I’d asked her sincerely.

She’d shaken her head. “I’d expected him to fight for us. Instead he was all too willing to let me go. And now I’m left here asking myself, what was it for? All that sacrifice, all that fucking auditioning? What was it for?”

I’d watched as she sat across from me, ripping little pieces off her napkin and dropping them to the table.

“I cooked his every meal. I ironed his every shirt. I wiped his ass when he was sick. I waited twenty-nine years for him to give me this grand, passionate love affair, and I got…nothing.”

The whole time she was sitting across from me, I kept thinking to myself,she got it wrong.No judgement—but my mom was wrong about what it means to be a good woman. Because she’d been the ideal partner to my father, and she never got anything in return.

And if she was wrong about that, maybe she was wrong about…me.

I didn’t want to make the conversation about myself, but I couldn’t stop the lightbulbs from going off in my head as she spoke. Maybe I’d make the best decisions for Sky and me. Maybe I’d done my best with the hand I’d been dealt. Maybe I could finally let myself move forward without all the guilt.

As I sat there, listening to my mom spill out her regrets, I started seeing that, there is no text book on how to do life right. Life is something we figure out as we go. It’s a game of trial and error.

When I chose Razor, I took a path that didn’t lead to the destination I desired. But now, I get to pick a new path. I get to choose again.

“I’m so sorry, Layla,” she’d whispered. “I don’t think I’ve been a very good mother to you.”

---