Page 76 of Written in the Stars
“Youmotheredme.” Mom stared, dark eyes wide. She lifted a hand, lightly stroking the front of her throat. “Brendon told me you were seeing someone and that it was serious but I couldn’t believe it. Looks like I owe him twenty bucks.”
She wouldn’t quit. Darcy clenched her teeth until her molars creaked. “Brendon doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“So it isn’t serious?” Mom pressed.
“Why do youcare?”
Mom’s eyes widened. “Darcy, I’m yourmom.”
“Yeah, well, you could try acting like it.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Mom—”
“No.” She sniffed and smiled tightly, eyes wet with tears unshed. “It’s nice to know what you really think. You’re always so tight-lipped with your feelings around me. Tight-lipped, tight-ass.” Mom scoffed out a laugh. “It’s fine.”
The barb barely stung, the slick feeling of guilt swimming in Darcy’s stomach winning out. She meant what she’d said, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t undo it, press rewind if she could. “Look, me and Elle... it’s complicated, okay?”
“Complicated?” Mom’s brows flew to her hairline. “Darcy,baby. That doesn’t sound good. Haven’t you had enough ofcomplicated?”
Her spine stiffened.Thiswasn’t likethat, and she had enough with Brendon meddling. She didn’t need Mom nosing in, too. “That wasn’t an invitation to give your two cents.”
“Not the answer to my question. But I can take a hint.” Mom stood and reached inside her purse, withdrawing her cigarette and lighter. “I’ll get out of your hair, but just let me say this. Your brother... he’s like a rubber band. He’s got an immense capacity to love and his highs are high, his lows low, but he always snaps back. His heart is elastic. You and I, we’re more alike than you want to believe. But it’s true.
“When we feel things, we feel them deeply, all the way to our bones. We don’t snap back like your brother, and our hearts aren’t made of elastic. They’re breakable, and once broken, it’s difficult to piece them back together.” She lifted her head and stared at Darcy with wide, shiny eyes. Darcy wasn’t good with tears, not hers, not anyone’s. Definitely not Mom’s. She was all too familiar with those.
Darcy found it hard to swallow. “Mom—”
“I know. You don’t want to talk about Natasha any more than I want to talk about your father, and I understand that. I do. You were ready to spend the rest of your life with her and that’s no small thing. Natasha broke your heart and while I’m sure Elle’s nice—Brendon seems to think she is—do you have any business getting involved in something that’scomplicatedthis soon after you’ve put yourself back together, Darcy?”
Cold settled in Darcy’s chest, her stomach heavy and hard.
“Which isn’t to say you should spend the rest of your lifealone.” Mom waved her hand, dismissing the thought. “Life is short and you deserve to have fun. But you’re sensible, far more sensible than me and for that I’m thankful. I’m only suggesting that our hearts can lie. You have a good head on your shoulders, baby. Use it.”
Natasha had checked all her boxes, was all the things Darcy thought she wanted. They’d made sense together. She was a safe, sensible choice and Darcy had been ready to spend the rest of their lives together. It had never, for one second, crossed Darcy’s mind to fear that sort of betrayal before it happened, before she saw it with her own eyes. Even knowing what Mom had gone through, learning that Dad had cheated on her during those long business trips, and how Mom had drunkenly told her love was a lie more times than she could count, Darcy hadn’t believed it could happen to her until the day it did.
Was she right? Were they more alike than Darcy wanted to believe? Here she was, supposed to be dedicating her time to passing this FSA exam and instead she was carving out time, carving out a space in her life, for Elle, free-spirited Elle who couldn’t have been less like Natasha if she tried. Elle was all she could think about half the time and it was more than justfun, it was—
God. It was times like these, Darcy would do anything to have just five minutes to talk to Grandma. She’d give it to Darcy straight, tell her if she was behaving irrationally, if she was in danger of losing her head. Grandma had been the only person to get Mom back on some semblance of a track in life and Darcy, for all she tried, couldn’t do the same, not alone. It was too much, the weight of it crushing.
But Grandma wasn’t here and soon her house would be gone, too.
Darcy’s nails bit into her skin when she crossed her arms. “While I appreciate the concern, it’s unnecessary.” She crossed the room in the direction of the door, hoping Mom would get the hint. “Since we’re doing Christmas at Brendon’s this year, did you at least pack Grandma’s ornaments?”
Mom frowned, cigarette poised halfway to her mouth. “Those old things? Darcy, they were falling apart. I donated everything in the boxes in the basement. Theyreekedof mothballs.”
Darcy’s heart seized. They weren’told, they were one of a kind. Delicate lace angels and hand-carved nutcrackers. Felt trees and mercury glass globes. They weretraditionandfamilyand Mom had tossed them out without a second thought.
Darcy opened the door with sweaty fingers and stepped aside.
“You’re not upset with me, are you?” Mom rested a hand on Darcy’s shoulder as she passed by, her cigarette tickling her neck.
“I’m—” Darcy shook her head. “Good night, Mom.”
As soon as the door was shut, Darcy pressed her back against it, sinking slowly to the floor.
Talking to Mom was like speaking to a brick wall and expecting it to understand, toempathize. But Darcy needed to talk tosomeoneor else she was going to go crazy.
Who? Normally she could talk to Brendon about anything—almostanything—but certainly not this. Annie was still in Berlin, working on behalf of her company, an independenthuman resources consulting firm, to facilitate a corporate merger. It was just after seven, which meant it was the middle of night there. Then there was—
No one. She’d done an admirable job of accomplishing what she’d set out to do—isolate herself. Before this moment, she’d never realized what a lonely job it was, protecting a fragile heart.
