Page 126 of Possessive Sinner
I nod against her chest. She's got that right. It's not just a feeling, though. It's a fact.
"Look, I loved Pete, you know I did. He was like a son to me." She sniffles.
I believe her. In her way, she did. "But he's gone," she adds just as quickly, like it's a simple conclusion. "And you… You're still here."
My chest tightens.
"You can sit in that grief for ten days or ten years, sweetheart, it won't change a thing." Her hand moves up and down my back in slow strokes. "The hurt will still be there. It'll take as long as it takes." Her voice softens into something almost coaxing now.
"What you do in the meantime?" A small shrug against me. "That's entirely up to you."
Her words make my stomach twist.Is she right?
"You have every right to have some fun. To be with another man."
Fun? The word feels wrong. Out of place. Like it doesn't belong anywhere near Pete's name.
"Mom…" I murmur in weak protest.
"Who cares what people say?" she continues with her unfailing mom logic. "Those people aren't living your life. They don't matter. They'll judge you," she continues, almost amused. "Of course they will. That's what people do. So what? Do you need them?"
I don't answer. I have a feeling I know where she's going with this.
"Who are you worried about, anyway?" she goes on. "Pete's mother?" She scoffs. "Oh, please. According to that woman, you'd have to grieve for the rest of your life. Never remarry. Never be happy again."
That stings. But it is not entirely wrong.
"And the people at that clinic?" she adds. "The ones who'll probably fire you because life got in the way? Those people?" Another scoff. "Not exactly the moral authority I'd worry about." Her arms tighten around me slightly.
"I won't judge you, sweetheart," she says, softer now. "Pete just wasn't the right man for you."
Something in me recoils. Even if I don't fully understand why.
"And even if he was," she adds with a careless shrug, "he's dead."
The words hit like a slap. It takes effort not to react. I know she means well. She's just very, very straightforward. Her parents were German. The kind of people who always tell you the truth, no matter who it hurts. If you ask any of them for their opinion, you'd better be prepared for the truth.
"Mom," still, I try to protest, pulling back just enough to look at her, "the funeral wasn't even a week ago."
She just shrugs again. Completely unfazed. "As I said… time is relative." Her gaze flicks—just briefly—toward the door. Toward the rest of the penthouse. Toward him. Then back to me. Slow. Knowing.
"You can grieve alone," she says lightly, "or in the arms of a man." A pause. A faint, satisfied smile. "A powerful man."
And there it is. Not just comfort. Not just permission. Something else. Something that has nothing to do with Pete and everything to do with her comfort. She never approved of Pete's and my lifestyle.Why would you settle for him, Audra? An accountant?She asked in the beginning. She didn't like Pete at first. Called him aloser. Her tune only changed after she moved in with us. After she was fully dependent on me and theloser. That's when Pete became theapple of her eye. Because, let's face it. As far as providing for us, he was the better choice, what with his banking job.
That's my mother in a nutshell.
However.
She may be all about self-preservation, but I do know that in her own messed-up way, she loves me. Plus, she's the only one I can bounce my worries off right now.
"Thanks, Mom. I'll think about it, okay. But Gabe told me something last night."
She tilts her head. I have her full attention. I fill her in about seeing him at the police station; she already knows about my arrest, and unlike Pete, she thought it was hilarious. But I've never told her, or anyone, about seeing Gabe there. I fill her in about the purse. About him sending the invitation to the ball.
She looks thoughtful. "Sounds like he's been obsessing over you for a while. Audra, you deserve a man who thinks the sun rises and shines only around you."
A sad smile plays along my lips. "Pete did."
