Page 86 of Wild Flower

I match her stance, crossing my arms over my chest, waiting for her to start her angry seminar. Instead, she stares me down like we’re about to count our paces before a duel. After what feels like too long, I take a deep breath and decide to end this childish standoff. “To answer your question,” I state, “I’ve been busy: visiting properties, arranging my finances—”

“You are not moving your farm!” she snaps. “This whole game with your lawyer and your new friends is enough.”

“Did you sign the revised contract with my changes?” I ask. According to Ned, she hasn’t contacted him since our meeting. He told me the best thing to do is wait her out and call her bluff, and in the meantime move forward with what’s needed to move my farm.

My mother’s lips pinch, which means she hasn’t touched anything. Of course not. She’s the definition of stubborn.

“Well mom, you’re not giving me much of a choice if you’re not going to amend anything. I’m not signing your version of that contract.”

“You move your farm, then you’d better move the rest of you, too,” she snaps, baring her teeth.

I sway on my feet like I’ve been slapped, grabbing the table of flowers next to me. I don’t know why that comment hits so hard—but it does. I knew moving might be in the cards, but I didn’t expect my mother to kick me out. I didn’t think we’d come to the point where she’d actively want me out of her life. We’ve had our disagreements and I don’t fit her personal vision, but she’s still my mother.

The grimace on her face saysI’m not budging.

“Are you—?” I start, but she is. There’s no denying what she’s doing. “You’re threatening to kick me out if I don’t play by your rules?”

“You’re the one who’s making this hard,” she hisses back. “Why can’t you be like Helena and—”

“Be the perfect daughter?” I put down the watering controls and walk toward her. “You’re a broken record, Mom. I’m sick of you telling me I need to find the perfect man to take care of me. Stop trying so hard! I have someone in my life, and I can stay with him.”

“Ha!” My mother barks, digging in her pocket. “Which boyfriend are you going to stay with, huh?” She pulls out her phone and turns it to face me. On the screen is a picture of the billboard for Flambé; the one I’m kissing Finn in. “That’s that photographer, isn’t it? Does Archer know about him?” My eyes narrow in confusion, but it hits me that she probably doesn’t realize that’s also Archer in the photo. Due to the crop of the image, it’s honestly hard to tell it’s him. “Are you playing both of them?”

She curses under her breath, and I don’t hear exactly what she says, but it isn’t kind. It’s something to the effect ofA whore is no daughter of mine.

Something in me snaps.

Or maybe the final pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

My mother will never accept me—not if I’m successful, not if I’m in love, not if I’m happy. I could let her underhanded comments drive a wedge inside me and make me question the two men I’ve fallen in love with. Is it right? Is it real? What kind of woman am I by being with both of them? I could let her judgement shame me into doing something stupid as I desperately grasp for her approval. But I’ve spent my life starving for her love, and it’s clear I’ll never get it—not as myself, not as the person I actually am—and I’m tired of her making me cower.

I pull off my work gloves and toss them on my work bench, the whole while she’s holding up her phone with her smoking gun of evidence. I almost laugh when I get close enough to see the photo is in a text message thread and the billboard photo has been sent to her by Carl from the country club.

What an ass.

“I’m not playing anybody,” I say with fire bubbling in my blood. “I’m not cheating on Archer with Finn or vice versa.” I point to the phone and the third person in the picture. “That’s Archer, Mom, in the picturewithus.”

She turns the phone to inspect the photograph, her forehead bunching.

“But the truth isn’t going to make you feel any better,” I continue, cracking my knuckles. “But here it is from the ugly duckling herself. I’m datingboth of them, Mom. Finn and Archer arebothmy boyfriends. And I don’t mean, I’m seeing them separately. The three of us are in a relationshiptogether.”

Her eyes cut to me with a disconcerted frown, my words sinking in. “How can—?”

But her words fall to silence, because we don’t make sense. In her version of the world, there are very narrow rules for relationships. Who I am and what I’m doing is completely unrecognizable to her.

“It’s like any other relationship, Mom,” I say softly. “Everything a relationship encompasses with two people, we do it with three.”

“You don’t—?!” She cuts herself off, her tone clipped with embarrassment. A flush burns up her neck as her face scrunches, not wanting to fathom the idea of me with two men.

“I love both of them,” I say boldly, deciding there’s no more reason to hide. “And yes, of course, I make love to both of them—at the same time—with me in the middle. And it’s the most perfect and wonderful thing I’ve ever been a part of.” My mother crosses her arms over her body, her chin trembling. “And you know what would be great, Mom? It would be amazing if you could be happy for me and not judge this. Because I’m in love, and I refuse to be ashamed of it.”

Her jaw tightens, muscles feathering in her expression. It’s not anger she’s fighting, but something deeper, rooted in her heart. I’m not ashamed of Finn and Archer, but my mother has spent her life ashamed of what she loves—ashamed of me.

“You know what,” I say, doing my best to keep the emotion in my throat from overflowing. “Forget about the contract.” I grab my keys and purse off the workbench. “I’m not going to sign the damn thing, even if you agree to the changes we added.”

“Becca—”

“I need a month,” I cut her off. “A month to move the farm and my belongings. Then I’ll put you out of your misery. I’ll be gone, and you can gossip with Carl, and swoon over how perfect Helena is, and forget you have another daughter who you’re ashamed of.”

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