Meeting His Match (Single In the City 1)

“I told him to leave.”

Marti shook her head. “Yeah, I know, but—”

“No. I told him to stay away.” Her mother’s eyes filled with tears.

Marti’s throat squeezed. The last time she saw her mother cry was the day her father left.

“I made him stay away.”

“I don’t understand.” Marti’s head pounded. What was she getting at? She needed her to spell it out.

“I was hurt and angry and wanted nothing to do with him. My pride was wounded, too. So, I kicked him out, even though he wanted to work on us. He wanted counseling. But I wanted none of it. I just couldn’t look past the anger and the betrayal. After everything that happened. . .”

“I don’t blame you for that.”

Her mother offered her a weak smile. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? But the reason you hardly saw him was because I couldn’t bear it. I threatened him. I told him I needed time to heal without the constant reminder of him in my face. I told him that if he didn’t give me the space I needed, I’d fight him in court and take full custody, and he’d never see you again. And the first time he tried coming around, I had my lawyer draw up papers, so he believed it.”

Marti went numb. She couldn’t feel her arms, her legs, her lips as she said, “Dad never told me any of this.”

“He promised me years ago, out of guilt and shame, that he’d never tell you.”

The room tilted, the floor dropping out beneath her. “Why are you telling me now?”

Her mother stood, straightening her blouse. “It’s not right keeping this from you, and it’s unfair for him to continue shouldering the blame of what happened after. I think part of me was glad when you turned eighteen and wanted nothing to do with him. It felt like vindication, so I didn’t stop it. But that was a long time ago, and I’ve healed. I was wrong, Marti. Moms make mistakes too. Lots of them.”

Marti leaned forward, resting her head in her hands as the world around her grew weak beneath her feet. Her father had been forced out of her life. He’d stayed away for so long because he was afraid of losing her altogether, not because he didn’t care.

Marti moaned and rubbed her temples. It was too much. This. Logan. Blue. All of it.

Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry.

Her mother stepped forward and gripped Marti's arms until she met her eyes. “It’s okay to let him in,” she said, her expression earnest.

“Dad?” she asked, weakly.

Her mother shook her head. “Logan.”

Marti swallowed. “You once said, ‘love is nothing more than a li

e you tell yourself,’ and I believe it. I always have.”

“Oh, Marti. No you don’t.” Her mother placed her hand over her chest, then reached out and rubbed the spot below Marti’s ribs. “At least not in here. The heart wants what it wants.”

“How can you say that? I was there. I saw what you went through.”

“I would never give up the years I had with your father. What we had was special. We lost it, not because love is a lie, but because somewhere along the way, we stopped fighting for each other and started fighting for ourselves instead.”

Marti’s heart raced.

Is that what she was doing? While Logan was trying to fight for her—for them—she was fighting for herself.

“What if we fail? What if it hurts?”

Her mother leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. “You can’t fail if you don’t try. And aren’t you already hurting?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MARTI