Page 23 of One Week
“I know…”
“What happened?” He asks. “What were you fighting about?” He’s being nosy, but I don’t mind at all. I’m tired of people tip-toeing around me. Ever since she died, no one ever mentions her. They ask about the kids, about John, about life, but they never talk about her. They’re just too afraid to go there, I guess. Even John — he’s the worst offender. And here I am, talking to a complete stranger about her. I feel like I could tell him anything.
“She never liked my husband,” I tell him. I’ve never admitted this to anyone. No one ever knew about the tension between John and my mother. “She thought he was too controlling. The fight was about me quitting my job. I loved my job, and she thought I should have kept it. But we didn’t need the money, and I wanted to be with the kids… they’re only small for so long.”
He nods. “You’re a good mother” he says. “It sounds like she was just looking out for you.”
I swallow hard. “I know she was. She was just looking out for me, and I basically just told her to fuck off.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Gabriella. You didn’t know…” he trails off.
I love the sound of my name on his lips. No one ever calls me Gabriella. My mother was the only one who did occasionally, and I miss it. “Thank you… I know, but it’s hard. I feel so bad.”
“It was a horrible tragedy,” he says. “And it happened at a bad time in your relationship. She knew you loved her, I’m sure.”
I nod. My eyes are wet, and I’m just about to lose it. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a downer.”
He smiles. “You’re not a downer.”
He truly is beautiful, and it’s not just his model-looks — there’s something breathtaking about his soul too.
“I can’t imagine what that would be like,” he goes on, not ready to abandon the subject, not willing to leave me there on a limb with my sorrows, not taking the easy way out. “To lose someone so abruptly. With my mom, I knew she was going. I had two years to come to terms with the fact that she would no longer be here.”
“You got to say goodbye… you’re lucky.”
“Well…” he starts. “Yes and no. When she was first diagnosed, I was already in Europe. I was broke, and madly in love—”
“With your wife… your ex-wife?”
He smirks. “Anyway, I wanted to be with her… Clara, I mean, not my mom. I was so stupid. I thought my mom would pull through. Women survive breast cancer all the time, I told myself.”
“You weren’t stupid… you were young,” I offer.
“If I could do it again, I would have moved back and been there for her, the whole way.”
The pain in his expression pulls at me. I can see how torn up he is about this, just as wrecked as I am. “I understand… if I could go back, I’d tell my mother I love her.”
He smiles sweetly. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could go back in time?”
“It would be,” I agree.
He shakes his head. “Anyway, thankfully, my sister was there for her, the whole way. She took real good care of her.”
“That’s good,” I add cheerfully.
“I did get to say goodbye,” he tells me. “When she really went downhill, my sister called me, and I rushed over. I had a day with her. I told her I loved her, but I’m not sure if she heard me.”
“I’m sure she heard you,” I tell him. “You were lucky to have that day.”
“I was,” he agrees, and he smiles again, and just looks at me, like before.
Silence. Another beat. And another. God, this is intense.
Damn.
I smirk. “Well, uh, it looks like your new Facebook friend is a real downer.”
He laughs. “Yours too.”
