Page 33 of Method for Matrimony

“Fire away.”

I sighed, taking a long sip of my coffee. I really fucking did not want to have this conversation. But I had to.

“Can you please look at me?” I asked.

“I can hear you from here.”

“Mom,” I barked a little harsher than I intended.

But at least it worked.

Though I did fucking curse myself for the small, familiar look on my mother’s face. The one she wore when she was tiptoeing around my father.

“What did you say to Fiona last night when I wasn’t here?” I demanded. I knew she hadn’t told her everything because Fiona hadn’t been treating or looking at me differently.

With pity.

I caught Nora looking at me like that every now and then. Rowan had told her. I wanted to be pissed at my best friend for that. But she was his wife. They were sharing a life together. That’s what you did with the person you married. You shared secrets.

“Oh, we talked about her getting a new sofa, which I’m really looking forward to today. Then a little about that bakery she works at. I cannotwaitto try the croissants.”

My mom spoke quickly and with a light to her eyes. She got excited and happy easily. Nothing got her down for long.

I clenched my fists. “Did you—” I sucked in a breath. “She doesn’t know. About… before.”

Her expression sobered immediately. All lightness left her. Slipped from her face like a mask. She looked older, full of sorrow.

It clawed at my insides.

Especially when it had been so long since I’d seen my mother, witnessed the pain in her eyes. After it happened, I’d desensitized myself from it. I had to, in order to survive.

But if I’d been standing, Mom’s grief might’ve taken me back a step.

“I don’t want her to know,” I said firmly. “I know you’re going to be spending a lot of time with her and talking about a lot, but I don’t want you talking about… that.”

She stared at me with glassy eyes, then nodded once. “Okay, sweetie,” she said softly. “Of course, I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” I said, not sagging with relief because I knew my mother.

“I understand you wanting to start fresh,” she said, staring at the ocean behind me. “And this is a wonderful town for a fresh start. I want you home, of course. I didn’t understand this.” She waved her hand at the window. “Not until last night, at least. Not until I met Fiona.” She smiled sadly. “But leaving them behind is not going to stop it hurting. And starting your new marriage with secrets will only hurtyouin the long run.”

I clenched my jaw. Conversations like this were like fucking razorblades on my insides. I’d dealt with years of this shit. Of my mom, my whole family, speaking softly, trying to tell me how I should feel, what I should do to make it okay.

It was fucking exhausting and infuriating.

The only way to survive it was to get the fuck away from them all.

“Mom, they’re dead and buried. I want them to stay that way.”

My mother flinched.

“They were a part of you,” she said in a smaller, sadder voice. “A part of you that deserves some light, honey. When you’re ready.” She held up her hands in defeat and turned back to her pancakes.

Luckily, she didn’t push it.

And luckily the rest of her visit was actually uneventful.

Well, she and Fiona redecorated a fuckload of the cottage and were giggling together like old friends.

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