I push the salmon around on my plate to give the illusion that I’ve taken a few bites. “Yup. Saw him yesterday.”
Unfortunately.
She angles her head and pouts. “I do miss him. He was such a sweet young man. And so handsome.” She gives me a knowing look. “Perfect marriage material, if you ask me. He’s a man who is going places.”
I clench my jaw, refusing to take the bait. Although it’s tempting. Since when is being a self-centered, cheating asshole considered perfect marriage material?
When I remain stoically silent, she continues blithely, “I seriously hope you’ll reconsider getting back together and giving your relationship another chance. It would be such a shame to let him slip through your fingers.” She waves her fork. “In no time at all, another woman will snap him up and you’ll be kicking yourself for not thinking long term. Trust me, bitter regret is not a good look on a woman.”
Perhaps. But from what I’ve learned, Botox, laser treatments, and plastic surgery are a dream at erasing it.
I wince at the uncharitable thought, hating how snide I’ve become in her company.
It takes all of my self-control to carefully set down my fork on the fine bone china plate instead of hurtling it across the spacious room.
“You know he cheated on me, right?” A small part of me keeps hoping she’ll acknowledge the pain he inflicted, but that has yet to occur.
Her demeanor turns serious as she nods. “So you’ve mentioned.”
It’s impossible to keep the sharpness out of my voice. “Not just once but many times.”
There’s no hint of softening around her eyes or mouth, but that could be the Botox. “I’m not saying his actions weren’t distasteful, but doesn’t he deserve a second chance to prove he’s changed?”
Distasteful.
I think what his cheating ass deserves is a much stronger adjective.
“No, he doesn’t.” A steady drumbeat begins to throb behind my temples.
“Brooke.” She actually has the nerve to cluck her tongue as if I’m a recalcitrant child.
“What, Mom?” I snap. “Should I have turned a blind eye to what he was doing and allowed it to continue? Or maybe I shouldn’t value myself as a woman who deserves better? Is that really the motherly advice you’re giving me?”
This dinner needs to end before I totally lose it.
“Of course not, darling.” She gives her head a little shake as if I’m the crazy one. “But he loves you so much, and you shouldn’t forget that his father owns a Fortune Five Hundred company. I just don’t want you to regret an impulsive decision because your pride is wounded. You need to consider the kind of life he’ll be able to provide for you.” She gives a tiny shrug. “Sometimes it’s necessary to overlook lapses in judgment in order to stay focused on the prize. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did because I was young and stupid. There was no one to help guide me. That’s not the case for you.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve been told how her marriage to my father was a mistake, and it’s doubtful it’ll be the last.
“I don’t want a man who can’t keep his—”
“They all cheat,” she cuts in sharply before giving me a pitying look. “Please don’t delude yourself into believing they don’t. They’re men. Unfortunately, it’s in their nature.”
I straighten on my chair and say through clenched teeth, “That’s not true. And I have no problem with providing for myself. It’s the reason I’m attending college and working toward a degree that will eventually pay the bills. I don’t need or want a man to take care of me.”
Elaine would vehemently disagree and tell you the reason she sent me off to school was to land a wealthy husband who I could sink my claws into, just like she would have if given the opportunity. But her parents couldn’t afford to send her to college. So, she took off for a big city, waitressed in an upscale establishment where she could meet a man who wore a suit and expensive silver watch for a living. There were a few bumps in making the dream come true, but the rest is history.
Thankfully, the waiter stops by and asks if we need anything else.
“Just the check,” I mutter, fed up with the conversation.
“Would either of you care to hear about our dessert selections for the evening?”
Mom waves a hand. “Gracious no, I’m stuffed.”
The younger man glances at her barely-touched salad before turning to me. His expression never falters.
“And you, miss?”
“Nope.” I make a big production of patting my belly. “Also stuffed.”
He gives a slight bow and whisks both plates away.
I open my mouth to say goodbye when she beats me to the punch. “I almost forgot to mention the fundraiser we’ll be hosting at the estate this weekend.”