: Chapter 22

Two days later, I walked into my parents’ house to drop off the handmade straw baskets I’d made for Trinity’s flower girls.

Technically, Gabriella was supposed to get them from a boutique out of town. But, also technically, Gabriella was a of massive proportions and cited headaches which had prevented her from making the trip.

I was wearing one of my Cruz dresses (that’s how I called them in my mind, which had made me imagine him said dresses, which was equally hilarious and sexy). I’d also let my hair down, both literally and figuratively, and it now fell gently on my shoulders.

The appeal of looking like the designated washed-out diner waitress who needed a shower and a clue had dissipated ever since I realized I could cut thirty minutes of preparation each morning only to make myself look attractive than I was.

Donna Turner, my mother, my childhood idol, and the woman who had compassion for anyone and everything, fruit flies included, flung the door open and smacked a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Hullo, Nessy. Come in. I’m making an afternoon snack.”

I stalked inside, a little stung she didn’t say anything about my attire.

The other day, when Gabriella showed up at Cruz’s house acting like a woman ready to boil a bunny (if you don’t get the reference—congratulations, you’re young), I’d decided it was time to stop giving this town a reason to hate me and packed all of the clothes he’d bought for me, vowing to wear them exclusively.

Later that evening, I’d stuffed all of my hooker clothes into black trash bags and re-donated them. I couldn’t run the risk of having them around. I didn’t want to revert back to looking like what this town wanted me to look like.

“Where’s Care Bear?” Mom floated into the kitchen and returned to the assortment she’d made on the counter, of baby carrots, celery, and raw broccoli with low-fat ranch dressing at the center.

The official Turner pre-wedding breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I’d been told.

The answer to her question was that Bear was playing video games with Cruz at his place. Since no self-respecting single mother let a treat go without a provision, there was a stipulation attached to the monumental event.

Rob had been getting on my last nerve, calling almost every day, begging to see Bear and me. Dropping off groceries, checks, presents, and, I suspected—if I didn’t acknowledge him soon, human sacrifices.

I’d basically told Bear he could hang out with his new adult friend Cruz if he agreed to meet his dad, even if just for an hour, in the safety of our bungalow, with me serving as buffer.

Was it the most ethical thing to do? No.

Was I using it as a teachable moment? Also no.

Was I feeling bad about any of it? Not even a little.

Bear had grown up fatherless, under financial and cultural strain, what with him being son, and his forgiveness muscle was nonexistent. I knew that he needed to flex it a little to make it work.

And no matter how much I disliked Rob—and I truly, sincerely loathed him from the bottom of my black, cold heart—there was no denying he was honestly trying to make it up to Bear.

Rob left presents for Bear on the front porch. All the time. Presents Bear totally ignored as he went about his day. The kid was colder than the Costco produce section.

I didn’t know if I should be impressed or concerned.

“Bear’s with a friend.” I propped my hip against a kitchen cabinet, popping a baby carrot into my mouth.

“How is he getting on with Rob?”

My mother opened the fridge, pulling out fresh strawberries for dessert. I found it ironic that the Turners had officially adopted a hamster’s diet, seeing as they were as good at eating their young.

“He’s not getting on with Rob just yet, but we’re talking about Bear meeting him for dinner in the near future.”

“You ought to give the man a chance.” Mom shut the fridge with her foot, rinsing the strawberries in water and salt in the sink to wash out all the dirt. “Did I tell you he helped your father with a flat tire the other day?”

“Only about seventeen times.”

“And he dropped by last week with some fresh flowers for me, asking how we’d feel if he asked you out.”

I let out a low whistle. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“Come on, Nessy, let’s get real here. You can’t really do much better than him. He’s got a steady job, he is still handsome, and he’s your son’s father. Why are you being so obstinate? You made your point. He’s been waiting around for you for weeks now. He’s been in the dog house long enough.”

“I’m not interested in him.”

“He seems to be ready for a commitment, though.”

“He’s twice divorced, Mom.”

“Third time’s the charm.”

I shouldn’t have been offended, considering all the other things Mom had said about me over the years, but I was. The complete confidence with which she said I could never do better than Rob hit me straight in the feels.

But not enough to tell her I was dating Fairhope’s treasured upstanding citizen.

“I’d rather die alone than get back together with Rob.”

“Well, that’s just fine.” She used her hip to slam a kitchen cabinet shut. “Because apparently, you’re headed for that exact fate.”

Our conversation was interrupted by a storm in the form of my baby sister, who threw the front door open with enough force to disconnect it from its hinges, rolling up looking like every person in town had kicked her puppy.

She was red, sweaty, and buzzing. Her dress was half torn in what seemed to be a hasty escape, and her braid had come undone. I’d never seen my sister looking less than the wholesome church girl that she was, so naturally, it gave me pause.

“Where is she?” my sister bellowed, kicking away a box full of wedding goodie bags which was standing in her way (my doing, naturally).

She looked left and right, searching for her object of fury. She zeroed in on me, baring her teeth like a rabid animal.

She stomped her way into the kitchen, not bothering to answer my mother’s cry as she flung herself between us, trying to hug Trinity or maybe just prevent her from tearing every hair from my head.

“There she is. Tennessee Turner. The object of every man’s desire.”

That seemed like an unlikely way to start a conversation with someone you wanted to thank for all of their hard work on your wedding, but I still kept an open mind.

You never knew when someone might get struck by the realization that you would give up the world for them.

Refusing to look flustered, I turned around and filled my glass with tap water. I reminded myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong (

). That whatever it was, it was a simple misunderstanding (

), and that I had nothing to hide (also, ).

After taking a few quick breaths, I turned back around to face her.

“Hello to you, too, little sis. Want to see the straw baskets I made for the flower girls? I laced some flowers in them.” I thought it was a nice touch.

“Not even a little. Let me ask you something.” A rictus smile marred her face. Taunting and angry and wrong. Like it had been painted in blood. She slithered toward me, like a snake about to strike. Panic clogged my throat. “Remember when you dropped out of high school? When you were pregnant? And everybody at school taunted me, stuffed my locker with condoms, and called me names because of you? How I had to eat my lunch in the restroom because I didn’t want to be harassed?”

“I remember,” I swallowed.

My whole body reacted to that memory. Hot tar spread inside my stomach. Sweat beads began forming on my brow.

She stopped behind a chair across from me, gripping the back of it. Mom stood between us in the kitchen, looking to and fro, unsure how to stop what was unraveling before her eyes.

“And remember when Bear was born and cried all night, night, and you were losing it, and Mom and Dad had work early in the morning, so I volunteered to take care of him half the night, thaw breast milk for him, cradle him while you were catching up on sleep?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly.

Because she had done all those things.

She was just a child herself, full to the brim with compassion. It was us against the world. At least until Wyatt Costello had come into the picture and her need to ensure her future would be different from mine overrode her love for me.

And she hadn’t thrown any of it in my face until now.

“And remember when Bear needed that ear surgery, and you didn’t have the money, and I gave you all my savings from my summer job at the Children’s Ministry?”

The question was answered with a weak nod from me. I closed my eyes, trying to draw a deep breath, but to no avail.

I wanted the floor to crack open and swallow me whole. To disappear from the face of the earth, I was so ashamed of what I’d put everyone through. And of my selfishness, for yet again doing as I pleased.

For conducting this pointless affair with Cruz.

Who cared why she didn’t like us as a couple?

She was allowed to ask me for this after everything she’d done for me. It wasn’t like Cruz and I ended up together in real life anyhow.

“One thing is for sure—I was always on your side, Nessy. Always did things for you. Always helped you out. I wouldn’t let anyone talk badly about you.” Trinity’s eyes filled with tears. I didn’t correct her and explain that even if her friends didn’t talk about me to her face, they did so behind her back and sometimes to face. “So what I want to know now, my dear sister, is why couldn’t you abide by my one rule, my simple request, my to you not to ruin my wedding?”

My mother gasped loudly and clutched her (numerous) pearls. She was wearing a lot of jewelry today and reminded me a bit of Mrs. Warren. “What do you mean, Trinity?”

“This you raised,” my sister pointed at me accusingly, raising her voice, “is sleeping with my maid of honor’s boyfriend.”

“He is not her boyfriend!” I cried out, hating that I sounded desperate. “Cruz and Gabriella aren’t together.”

“They’re on a break!” Trinity yelled from across the table. “Gabriella’s beside herself. She said she might not be in the proper mental state to make it to the wedding!”

Wow.

I could see this coming from a hundred miles away, blindfolded and without a map. Maybe I was selfish, but so was Gabby.

“You’re sleeping with Cruz Costello?” My mother choked on the revelation, and a piece of raw cauliflower.

“Some break it is. He won’t take any of her calls and crosses the street when he sees her!” I roared back at my sister, attempting not to come across as the biggest pushover on planet Earth.

“That’s because you’re poisoning him against her.” Trinity was crying now, tears running down her face. “The entire town knows! Gabriella is humiliated.”

“Are you sure I’m the one who is using poison as a method?” I chuckled incredulously, hiding all the pain behind laughter because I’d washed my armor off my face. “Because your so-called best friend just told you she might not be your maid of honor, and also dropped by the other day to call me a homewrecker and threaten to ruin my life.”

“How can she ruin your life when you’ve already done such a fantastic job of it all by yourself?” Trinity snorted out.

“My life is not ruined!” I banged my fist on the table. “I have a son that I love and a family I would die for, if you haven’t noticed. Maybe I could have a better job, but at least I’m not so desperate to quit mine that I’m marrying a man with the emotional maturity of a grapefruit who pretty much ignores my existence.”

“Nessy!” My mother cupped her mouth. “For shame! Wyatt is a lovely man.”

“Wyatt barely knows your names.”

“Take that back,” Trinity ordered, barking at me.

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t make it any less true!”

Trinity charged toward me, bitch-slapping me so hard, so zealously, my face flew in the other direction and my opposite cheek slammed against the kitchen cabinet.

For the first few seconds, I couldn’t feel anything. Then the burn began spreading everywhere, like wildfire.

My jaw.

My eyes.

My nose.

My soul.

I turned my head, staring my sister dead in the eye.

This was my time to stand up to my family like Cruz had been telling me to, over and over again.

To tell them that, in fact, I was allowed to date whomever I wanted.

That my life wasn’t over or less meaningful than theirs.

That I was not a complete screw-up, and that even though they’d been there for me through thick and thin, I deserved not only their help and guidance, but also respect.

been there for , too.

But the words, all the words that I’d had to tell Trinity and my mother, got stuck in my throat when I thought about everything I could lose.

Bear’s grandparents, whom he loved so dearly.

And Auntie Trinity, who took him into the city every year before Christmas for some serious shopping and made him his favorite key lime pies for Thanksgiving, even though absolutely nobody else loved those horrible custards.

I thought about potentially losing the only constant thing in my and my son’s life, for a man who was great—perfect, even—but ultimately, just a man.

And I froze.

“Well?” Trinity spat into my face, her teeth clenching against her words.

My mother moved beside her, lacing their arms.

They had an alliance. They were a fully formed unit, and I wasn’t a part of them.

I took a step back.

“Call it off with Cruz,” Trinity said. “Or I won’t have a maid of honor.”

“Your maid of honor hates you,” I said simply, my voice tiny, and resigned, and not completely mine. “Haven’t you noticed she does nothing for you other than getting the desired title of a maid of honor? She scares you so much you just slapped your own sister to make a point.”

“Gabriella deserves Cruz. She worked hard to get him and had him, too. They just need time to figure things out,” Trinity said defensively, calming down a little. “And anyway, what do you think’s gonna happen? He’s gonna go on to marry you or something? Quit dreamin’, Nessy, and just do the smart thing for once in your life. Have some self-respect for once in your life. Oh, and before you leave.” Trinity turned around, kicking the goodie bag box between us toward me. “Make sure nothing is broken. The last thing I need is to give my guests broken glass in a cellophane wrap because of you.”

I grabbed the box, humiliation burning through my chest, turned around and walked away.