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“Oh sweetie, you are positively glowing! Have you gotten work done?”
Only my mother would assume I’m glowing because of plastic surgery. It’s sad that she can’t recognize I’m glowing because I’m happy and in love.
“I just got back from my trip with Dom. We were staying at a villa in Kauai.”
“Oh, that’s nice. But Hawaii has nothing on the Maldives where Frederic took me. Absolutely pristine beaches. And then because we were having such a great time, we extended the trip. It was pure heaven.”
I don’t miss how she took a dig at my own vacation to rave about hers. Why does it always have to be a competition? Why couldn’t she appreciate that I had a good time on my trip with the man I’ve been in love with for years without diminishing it?
I adjust my cloth napkin on my lap. “Anyway, Mom, I’m glad you were able to meet up. I was hoping we could talk.”
“About what, sweetie?”
Here it goes. I can do this. I can tell my mother everything that’s been bothering me.
I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it with a frown at the table—the bread basket specifically. “You didn’t have any of that while you were waiting for me, did you? Carbs will go straight to your hips, and you don’t need bigger hips if you’re set on keeping a guy like Dom.”
“That.” I shout—not on purpose, but because my thin patience has now evaporated. Mom’s eyes widen. I lower my voice. “That, the nitpicking and underhanded comments about my weight or shape, that’s what I wanted to talk about with you. It needs to stop.”
She places a hand on her chest, looking absolutely affronted. “Honey. I told you, I only tell you the truth because I love you.”
My throat tightens and I hate—hate—the sting of tears in my eyes. “But that’s not love, Mom. Love is making me feel like I’m enough, like I’m more than enough, like Dom would be insane to not appreciate me, not the other way around. Love is wanting your daughter’s happiness, not planting doubts in her head that have no place being there.”
I lose my battle with the tears, and several break free at once, sliding down my cheeks. I brush them away quickly. Mom stares at me, her expression blank and her eyes only slightly wider than normal. She glances down at her lap and then back up at me, a brow arched.
“I didn’t realize that my brand of love wasn’t good enough for you. You’ve never spoken to me this way before, and I can only think that Dominic has been planting these awful words into your head. I’m ashamed you would ever think I’m trying to diminish you. Honey, of course I want the best for you, which is why I share my opinion on matters of your life—to give you guidance.”
The tears slowly dry up with each word out of her mouth. Each word delivered with poise and no emotion—like she’s reciting the winning lottery numbers. I swallow thickly and stare at her, seeing her with a new perspective.
She’s never going to change.
Which means asking her to isn’t going to get either of us anywhere. For the first time in my life, I realize there really is no salvaging our relationship. I tried to stand up for myself, and she claims it’s Dom planting thoughts in my head when it’s her who’s been planting poison for years.
“You understand, sweetie, don’t you?” She says it like it’s not really a question, but a foregone conclusion that she’ll once again get her way.
“No, I don’t.”
She freezes, her glass of lemon water halfway to her mouth.
“I don’t understand you at all,” I continue. “And frankly, I don’t think I want to. I can’t keep doing this with you, Mom. I can’t keep letting you poison my happiness. So, unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you not to visit me anymore. I think it’s best for both of us if we don’t interact at all.”
She sets her water glass down without taking a drink and throws her napkin on the table. “Well,” she huffs. “I never thought I would be treated so poorly by my own daughter. And after everything I’ve done for you.”
I feel guilty for all of two seconds before I realize this is another thing she does. She tries to guilt me for “what she’s done for me” while completely ignoring all the really damaging ways that she’s diminished me over the years. And those far outweigh the things she’s “done” for me.
She stands up with a regal grace I’ve come to expect from her. “Goodbye, Alayna.”
Then she walks out of the room, not looking back at me once.
I sag back in my chair, and the sudden sting in my nose is the first warning of the tears that pop up and streak down my face. I don’t know what reaction I expected her to have, but putting the blame on me and then walking out without a backward glance wasn’t it.
I’m thankful this table is tucked in the back and there are very few people at the restaurant. None of them have a decent view of me as I cry silently into my napkin, trying to pull myself together enough to leave.
When strong arms wrap around me, I pull the napkin away and am greeted with the same blue eyes that have always comforted me.
“Dom?”
“Shh,” he says, pulling me up into his arms before resettling us in my chair with me on his lap. He holds me close, letting me cry into his chest.
