Page 71 of True Blue

And I guess sick curiosity won out, because after Teddy asked me to come, I said yes.

It was a barbecue for Judd’s birthday. Dawn went all out—streamers, balloons, a beautiful, elaborate cake that Judd immediately scrunched his nose at.

“You should’ve gotten a Carvel cake, Dawn, fucking Christ…”

It seemed fine at first.

Danielle and Stephanie weren’t available to come, but I sipped my wine and laughed with Teddy. Lily kept her distance, just lingering with the aunts and her mother, and Dawn was… strangely pleasant. She rushed over to greet us, and instead of greeting Teddy first, as always, she pulled me into a hug.

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you, sweetheart,” she blubbered in my ear. “I am so sorry for my behavior these last few months. I’ve just been so torn up over my mother’s death, and I’ve felt like I’ve been losing my baby boy. Please forgive me. I want us to have a good relationship—a mother-daughter-in-law relationship, if you’d have me.”

When I pulled back to look at Dawn’s face, shock registered. She was crying—actual tears, with red-rimmed eyes and snot at her nose. Her expression looked genuinely upset. It was only the second time I’ve seen her this undone, and my surprise left me nodding mutely.

Teddy beamed.

Dawn kissed my cheek.

That should have been a warning sign, but unfortunately, my optimism has grown louder than my pragmatism.

Later, Dawn handed me a plate of pasta salad and steak with a wink.

“I made sure it was that chickpea pasta you’ve mentioned before,” she said brightly. “And I checked—twice—to make sure it’s gluten-free Italian dressing.”

“Oh,” I murmured, startled. “Thank you, Dawn.”

She smoothed my hair down and floated away to speak to the next guest.

For a couple of stupid hours, I had actually felt touched by the care. Teddy had the brightest smile on his face. I thought maybe it was an olive branch. I thought maybe she was coming around.

I was so, so wrong.

“Is this a bug or something, honey?”

My sharp, hoarse laugh is my response, and my eyes snap open.

“Your mom gave me gluten, Teddy. That’s why I feel like this,” I groan, pressing both hands to my sore stomach. I slip into my doctor voice and present the facts like I’m presenting a case, because apparently that’s what it takes. “My immune system is attacking my small intestine. Nausea and stomach cramping and—” I gag, wincing at the ache in my gut.

Teddy looks more horrified with each word, and there it is—that familiar torn look. The one that always comes right before he reaches for an excuse on her behalf.

“It… I don’t think it was on purpose⁠—”

“Look at me and say that again,” I hiss, pausing to breathe through the cramping. “Look at the state I’m in.”

Teddy keeps his gaze down.

“Teddy,” I bark, patience long gone.

He looks at me, opens his mouth, closes it, and does that three more times before he sighs. His face collapses, and he cradles my cheek, thumb brushing in a way that would be soothing if I didn’t feel this misery.

“Lily said her pasta tasted weird,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to build logic where there is none. “She said maybe the plates got mixed up, remember? Maybe yours ended up with hers, and hers ended up with yours.”

Of fucking course.

Dawn is smart, always calculating in how she handles things.

The thing is, this excuse works so goddamn well. It’s believable to someone who doesn’t know her, or to someone who isn’t aware that I’ll be taking Teddy away next month and that she’s running out of chances to stop it.

The sick thing is that some part of me keeps wondering if I’m just paranoid. What if it was a mistake? What if she did mix up the plates? That happens. It’s why I’m so particular about what restaurants we go to, why I ask questions, and why I’m careful.