Married in Vegas: In His Arms

A picture of her and Eddie popped in my head and I shook it. Nah.

But she and I did need to talk about who the guy she’d hidden from me. Her excuse was I was doing the same thing and that she would tell me if I’d told her. Now that she knew about Cam and me, I deserved answers about her mystery guy. Only she wasn’t home. There had been a note that she was out with her current boyfriend, a man far too old for her in my opinion. But who was I to talk about dating rules.

I got back on task and the first thing I needed to do was pack. Cam would be back. He was persistent like that until I pushed him far enough away.

I needed time to grasp what I’d done. I loved him, yes. Did he really love me? Probably. He’d wanted us to be together but on his terms. I couldn’t blame him. He’d had a multi-million-dollar contract and couldn’t leave New York.

Until now.

Now he was here in Dallas, leaving me no excuses. I sighed as I gathered clothes in large tote without care to folding them. I wasn’t going far, but to the one place Cam wouldn’t look for me. Mom’s house.

Jillian’s room was still empty an hour later and I left her a message telling her where I’d be going for a few days.

The drive to Mom’s wasn’t long. Plano was just outside of Dallas. A lot had changed over the years and it didn’t look the same as it had when I was growing up until I reached the east side.

I drove into the sleepy little country club area that was prime real estate in its day. Now it was old but had the charm that made my mother fall in love with it so many years ago.

The brick ranch looked the same as it did when I left for college. The manicured landscaping was mother’s pride and joy.

I parked out front feeling like a stranger. With my bag in hand and the hour and not many minutes after seven in the morning, I knocked.

Mom, a consummate morning person, hummed her way to the door.

“Christina,” she said with a frown on her face and looked over her shoulder. “Where’s your sister?”

It wasn’t that she was upset I was there. More like she was perplexed. I didn’t come around unless it was a holiday or her birthday and Jillian was usually with me.

It wasn’t her that kept me away. Her latest husband was a mistake she wouldn’t let go. He had wandering hands I’d swatted away numerous times that Mom didn’t seem to notice.

“Hi Mom. It’s just me.”

She stepped back. “Well, come in. I have a pot of coffee ready.”

“Is Bill here?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s out of town with work and won’t be back until next week.”

More like he was out drinking with the boys and God knew what else.

“Can I stay here a few days?”

A smile broke on her face. “Why that would be nice?”

I didn’t head left toward my childhood bedroom. The back guest bedroom off the kitchen was my choice. It was as far from old memories as I could get in the ranch house.

It was there I placed my bags before facing my mother.

She was pouring steaming coffee into a mug near the front window. Time hadn’t been as kind as it could have been to her. Worry sank deep into frown lines that sprouted like weeds across her face. I sat in the second half of the large kitchen where the table was. Sliding glass doors let more of the dawning sunlight into the room.

She placed two mugs on the table between us. Talking with my mother had never been hard and I made the dutiful weekly calls, but there was still distance between us over her life choices.

“What brings you home?”

I hated the sad tinge to her voice.

“Cam,” I admitted.

She smiled at me as she brought the cup to her lips. She drank before speaking.

“I always knew you were sweet on that boy.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. My jaw dropped. “Oh don’t look at me that way. I’ve got eyes and he was sweet on you too.”

I wondered how much else she knew.

“Why did you marry again after Dad?” I asked, switching gears.

Her hands trembled as she set the mug down.

“I’m not as smart as you, Christina.” Before I could protest, she held up a hand. “I’d never worked a day in my life. The only thing I know how to do is be a wife.”

My soul ached for her. “You don’t have to—”

“What?” Mom snapped with pride forcing her voice steady. “You’re right. I don’t have to. I choose to. Don’t shame me for not being you.”

I held in my growing anger that she stayed stuck in this bubble because she thought of herself as less.