by Cindi Madsen
My shoulders tensed, the way they often did around her, and I got a hollowness in the pit of my stomach. “No offense, Mom, but speak for yourself. Maybe you aren’t the settling down type, but I am. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“It’s what you think you want. But you didn’t get married, did you?”
The last few months of progress unraveled at her words, all that healing undone in one sentence. Yes, I’d moved past being left, but the fact that my own mom didn’t even acknowledge how much that hurt me stung. “I wanted to get married. Grant didn’t.”
“On some level, though, you were probably sabotaging it. It’s why it all fell apart there at the end.”
My temper was rising and I clenched my jaw, trying to keep it in check. “He found out he had a child. Trust me, I had no part of that process.”
“Okay, but didn’t you say you’re glad you didn’t end up getting married? I do read your column, you know.”
The raw edges of the pain she’d caused me over the years smoothed out a bit, because at least she made an effort to read my column, but why’d she have to use it against me? I blew out my breath, afraid we were about to talk in circles. “Yes, because it wasn’t right. And it led me to Brendan, who I think I have a real shot with.”
“I always think I can make it work with each guy, too. I move from one to the next, just like you. In and out of love from one day to the other. It’s what we’re good at. The sticking, not so much.”
“I can stick. I’ve been in Vegas for most of my life.”
“Yes, and I worry that because of that, you don’t even know who you really are—you even said so in your column. You wrote that you’d lost part of yourself. I remember, because I thought, that’s exactly how I felt right before I got divorced. I was a mom and a wife, but everything that was me was gone.”
The edges of pain re-sharpened, digging in again. I hadn’t been enough, and neither had Dad. Dad and I had made her feel lost. I got that, I supposed, but it still hurt.
“I don’t mean that I didn’t enjoy some days. You know I love you.” Mom moved closer and reached out her hand like she was going to put it on my shoulder. Then she hesitated as if she wasn’t sure she should touch me—I wasn’t sure either. “What I’m trying to say—not very well, I’ll admit—is that I don’t want you to feel like a failure if it doesn’t work out with Brendan. Or if you find you want something else in a few months, or even discover that you need to be alone from time to time.”
She let her hand drop on my shoulder, her eyes locked on to mine, and I got the feeling she wanted me to tell her that she could walk away, too. If she was going to, fine. But I wasn’t going to tell her that it was okay. Or maybe this was her way of telling me why she walked away when I was younger, as if she couldn’t help herself. Well, it wasn’t okay, and if she wanted reassurance, she’d have to go somewhere else.
I turned and grabbed the first three shirts I saw, not even bothering to check the sizes, and headed into the dressing room. I did need some alone time—from her. The logical side of my brain said that she had no idea what she was talking about. She didn’t even know me—not really. But there was a sliver of doubt digging its way in, making me wonder if I’d unknowingly sabotaged Grant’s and my relationship before he’d stood me up. If I was currently ruining my relationship with Brendan without knowing it.
One place, one person, and kids, eventually, had always been my goal. Was it because I wanted it, or was it so I could prove I wasn’t my mother? This weekend was supposed to be spent getting closer to Brendan, and instead I was spending it with the one person who could mess me up and make me question everything.
On cue, my mother said, “Dakota? How about after this we hit the casinos? We can grab food somewhere along the way, and I want to try out some of those famous Vegas cocktails, too.”
“Yeah, fine,” I called, mostly because fighting her was always a losing battle, and I didn’t have the energy.
The pink fabric of the shirt I pulled on snagged on my bra before finally smoothing down. I turned and stared at my reflection, asking it what I really wanted. Hoping it’d tell me that I wasn’t broken. That I could get over the trust issues Grant left me with and that I was, in fact, the sticking type.
Chapter Twenty-Five
When I awoke the next morning, it took me a moment to realize I was in Brendan’s bed. Brendan was next to me, his face peaceful in sleep. My lungs suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, and when I tried to swallow, it felt like I’d drunk a bucket of sand. An angry rhythm was pounding at my temples, but I tried to push past it and piece together last night.
Blips slowly came back to me. Shopping with Mom, her dropping the bomb that we’re just no good at sticking. Asking me if I even knew who I was. Being dragged to several casinos as she went from slots to blackjack to Texas Hold’em, and ended at craps. I’d played a couple of games here and there, got up seventy bucks only to lose thirty of it. That was when I’d walked away. But Mom dropped a grand along the way. Even weirder, she seemed happy about it.
There’d been drinking, too, quite a bit of it. The most powerful Long Island iced teas I’d ever had, and for some reason I kept ordering them—that’s right, I was freaking out that I was like my mom, which had been heightened by all the men she’d flirted with. But there’d been laughing and dancing, too, and the fact that I’d had fun with her had only worried me more. Made me think maybe she was right.
Which made me order more drinks. Damn Vegas! I thought after all these years I was immune to her charms.
Okay, so I’d take a little of the responsibility—forgetting about everything for a while had definitely been nice.
My stomach rolled when I remembered a guy pulling me close on the dance floor.
Then I got the image of pushing him away and telling him I had a boyfriend—phew.
There was a faint memory of climbing into the back of a taxi, but I couldn’t remember the rest. Namely, how I was in bed with Brendan West. Here I was in the place I’d desperately wanted to be, and I didn’t remember how I got there. Or how far things had gone—I wanted to remember our first time, and worrying I might’ve missed it left me cold inside.
Apprehension churning through me, I slowly peeked under the covers. And breathed a sigh of relief. I’m wearing the same clothes I was in last night. They smelled smoky, too. Ugh.
Brendan stirred and lifted his half-hooded eyes to me. “Hey. How’s the party animal this morning?”
I pressed my fingertips to my throbbing temples, wishing they’d stop. “Fuzzy. And confused. How did I get in here? Did you have to carry me? Because that’d be so embarrassing.”
“No, you walked right in.” Brendan covered a yawn with his hand. “Told me that you were going to make my wildest dreams come true, and then you stumbled over here, kissed me…and passed out on top of me.”
I groaned and pulled the blankets over my head. “Even more embarrassing. Great.”
Brendan laughed and tugged down the blanket. “It wasn’t so bad, really. You say funny things in your sleep.” I shook my head, and he drew me to him. His hair was mussed, his torso bare. I rested my head on his chest. His skin was warm and his heart beat out a steady rhythm under my ear.
I sat up, immediately regretting it when a sharp pain shot across my head. “What about my mom? Did she make it back okay?”
“She’s fine. I checked in on her after you crashed. You guys must’ve had quite the time last night.”
“It was…interesting, anyway. One minute I was in a dressing room, mad at her and wishing she’d never come. But then we hit Caesar’s Palace, and she’s got this frantic energy that’s hard not to catch. And then there was the drinking… I’m pretty sure she’s leaving Frank and that’s why she showed up here. I thought she might actually settle down this time, but…” I couldn’t help remembering how she told me we weren’t the sticking kind. “I guess it’s just not her thing.”
Was it mine? I didn’t believe that I coul
dn’t stick—I could do anything if I put my mind to it. I’d dated plenty of guys who were wrong for me, but I’d also dated guys who were genuinely good people who simply didn’t work out, no “sabotage” on either side. But what if my goal to get married and have a family was a silly notion I held on to because I didn’t know how to give up?
Brendan would probably just be relieved if I said I didn’t want those things.
Brendan cupped my cheek. “D.J.?”
“I’m fine,” I said, flashing him the best smile I could manage. “Pretty hungover, and sorry last night was a bit of a mess, but fine. I think I’ll go take a couple Tylenol and see if my mom needs some, too.”
He caught my arm as I moved to get out of the bed. “I need to talk to you about some things, D.J.”
His foreboding tone turned my insides to stone and the drumming in my head increased. “Let me take some pills, grab a quick shower, and get some coffee first? My headache’s screaming too loud for me to really process anything.”
He dropped my arm and nodded. The grim set of his mouth made my blood pressure spike, and worst-case scenarios were already filling my head, but thanks to the hangover, they were too jumbled to really catch one and hold on to it. As soon as I could properly function, I was going to have to stop being such a chicken. Just lay out my fears and ask what he wanted, so I could see if we were even close to being on the same page—hopefully a little clarity would help me figure out what the hell page I was on.
Ugh, I’m seriously never drinking again. Dealing with problems while impaired left the margin of error far too large for my liking.
By the time I got out of the shower, Mom was already awake, and she’d made coffee—I almost forgave her for everything right there. But as the caffeine jolted my system awake, I knew we needed to have a real conversation, too.
“Mom, what’s going on with you and Frank?”
“You know what we should do?” Mom dug out her phone and showed me a picture of a little cottage in San Diego with a beach view that was for rent. “We could live there. Get a break from everything for a while. Life could be just like it was last night, you and me hanging out and having fun. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Apparently Mom now viewed me as a partying buddy, and I wasn’t quite sure how to break it that we weren’t. Yes, it had been more fun than I could’ve imagined, but it wasn’t really me or who I wanted to be. “I have a life here. Friends. A boyfriend. A job. And you’ve got your place with Frank, right? Aren’t you guys almost done remodeling?”
Mom lowered her phone and sighed. “I don’t think it’s going to work with Frank. He’s a dear man, and I’ve enjoyed the time we spent together, but I need a new adventure.”
At least she’d finally admitted what had brought her here. Only it didn’t make me feel any better. “Life doesn’t always have to be an adventure. Sometimes you need to deal with boring or tough times. You can’t just run when it gets hard.” Okay, I was being a bit of a hypocrite, considering I’d been holding back with Brendan, but I was more bobbing and weaving than running, and I was going to stop.
“I’m not running,” Mom huffed. “Like I said, you and me, we’re just not the settling-down type.”
“No, you’re not that type. I’m the type of girl who got abandoned by her mom when she could’ve used her.” I was surprised I’d put it out there, but relief filled me that I didn’t have to bite it back anymore. Shopping, a dinner here and there, getting drunk together, and dancing all night—it didn’t fix the past.
Mom paled. “So that’s what this is all about. I’ve apologized. I can’t change the past.”
“You say that you’re sorry you weren’t made to be a mother, but that’s not the same as apologizing for not being there. So maybe you run from your responsibilities, but I’ve got obligations here, and I follow through.”
“I admire you for that, too. I just hope you don’t wake up one day and feel like you’ve wasted your life.” Mom set down her coffee cup and smoothed a hand down her hair. “I think it’s time for me to go.”
Wasted her life. Was that what she thought of the time she was actually in mine? “At least tell Frank that you’re leaving him. He deserves that. Not just waking up one day and finding you gone, the way I had to.” Pain stabbed at my heart. I hadn’t meant for the conversation to go this way, all the old wounds reopening. I’d wanted to talk to her about Frank, and ask her if she’d be okay. Have a real, honest conversation. But suddenly I found myself angry all over again. That she’d left. That I’d had to hold in how much it hurt for so long. Bottling up my emotions had made me bitter, and the truth was, they’d needed to come out for years.
Maybe what I needed to do to be someone who could have a stable future was to face the past and let it go.
Mom headed out of the kitchen.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for someday,” I said to her back.
Mom hesitated and turned. “You, too, Dakota. You, too.”
Tears were forming, and I was about to go find Brendan when my phone rang.
“I take it you saw the paper,” Jillian said, not bothering with a greeting.
I sniffed, trying to cover the fact that I was so close to crying. “I saw. I’m pissed, but I suppose it could’ve been worse.”
“Wow. Maybe that anger management course did change you. I certainly wouldn’t be so calm if my ex wrote a letter to the editor and my boyfriend was in the social column for canoodling another woman.”
…
The second Jillian opened the door, she held out her iPad, the Las Vegas Beacon already pulled up for me, not bothering with small talk or telling me to be cool. One way to forget about a fight with your mom is to immediately have a disconcerting information bomb dropped on you.
Actually, it was all sucky, and I wasn’t sure I could deal with any of it, but I knew I couldn’t be at home where Mom was most likely packing and walking out of my life—maybe forever—and Brendan was… Well, who knew anymore.
My hands shook as I skimmed down to the social column. The first few paragraphs were about which celebrities were seen at which nightclubs and with whom, but then I saw Brendan’s name and my lungs stopped taking in air.
Brendan West was seen last night at the Aces Casino. Considering he works there, that wouldn’t usually be news, but he wasn’t sitting in Terra with Dakota Halifax this time. No, the canoodling was happening between him and a dark-haired beauty I’m told also works at the casino. And according to a source, Dakota was seen out last night as well, at Pure, dancing and drinking and looking very much single. Not sure who did the bouncing, but it looks like they’re both already moving on. So, gentlemen, if you were looking for a chance with our recently jilted wedding planner, good luck. I hear she’s rediscovering herself.
My legs buckled, and I flopped onto the couch that used to double as my bed. As if the information wasn’t bad enough, the snark there at the end was like pouring lemon juice on the wound from the knife Phoebe’d jabbed into my back.
Not to mention I was feeling more lost than discovered today.
“There might be a good explanation,” Jillian said. “I mean, if she made up the stuff about you at Pure, then—”
“I was there. How the hell does Phoebe find out everything so fast?”
Jillian’s eyes widened, the question in them clear.
“My mom showed up two nights ago, and she and I…we went out. Gambling led to drinking and drinking led to dancing. But I wasn’t out as a single girl, and I certainly didn’t think Brendan was either. Single guy—you know what I mean.”
Jillian wound one of her dark curls around her finger. “Well, I saw the way he looked at you the other night, and you’ve known him for years, so…maybe it was just like your outing. Completely innocent.”
Since she was a skeptic about love, that was probably her best pep talk. The doubtful voice in my head said despite knowing him for several years, I hadn’t been around him for a lot of them. But then I thoug
ht back to him bringing me coffee, how I’d decided he knew me better than anyone, and the way he was so protective when my mom had shown up.
What had he said this morning, though? I need to talk to you about some things, D.J. Ominous to say the least. Was this what he was going to say? That he’d developed feelings for someone at work? That he wanted to date other people? Rip out my heart?
“I don’t…know. I want to say of course not, but…” A lump rose in my throat. I never would’ve guessed Grant would stand me up, either, and I’d dated him for a lot longer. There were so many things I’d been proven wrong on lately, I just didn’t have much faith in my judgment anymore.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you,” Jillian said. “But when I saw it… I’m supposed to be the one who reads this stuff and lets you know what’s important, and try to keep you from the bad. But this… Well, I can’t just sit back and ignore it if he’s cheating on you.”
Tears burned my eyes and I squeezed Jillian’s hand. “I’d rather be here with you than have to read this on my own.” I blinked to clear the tears and let out a long exhale. Time to see what my ex had said in this letter to the editor.
LETTER TO THE EDITOR:
When I don’ts turn to I dos
Did you ever want something so badly that you’d write a letter to the editor? Realized that you wanted something the instant you let it go? My name’s Grant Douglas, and if you wonder why it sounds familiar, I’ve been mentioned in Dakota Halifax’s Ready to Wed column a few times recently. I was her groom-to-be.
Dakota was right. Our wedding was well planned—she did it all, and I’m sorry to admit that I didn’t help or support her like I should’ve through any of it. I’d thought a cruise wedding would be the easy way. That it’d take away the pressure I was starting to feel about getting married, and help her to not stress over the planning. I loved her, and I wanted to make her happy. I wrote off all my fears as cold feet that a lot of people get before their wedding.
