Page 111 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

“I don’t want anything from you, Abby.”

“Not even a relationship,” I said, feeling my eyes burn.

“Some people should never be mothers. Unfortunately for you, I’m one of them. But it wasn’t because I didn’t love you enough or because you weren’t worth being better for. There is no better me.” She gestured to herself with sweeping hands. “There’s just this. That’s all there is.”

“Okay,” I said, watching her get her things together. The ashes in her hand peppered the couch and the rug. “Thanks for, uh … thanks for coming by, I guess.”

“Don’t feel guilty, Abby. You don’t have to love poison just because its name is Mom.”

I sighed. “You’re not poison. You’re …”

“A drunk. And I’m sorry. I wish you’d been dealt a better hand.”

“If I had, Mom … I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be married to the love of my life. I wouldn’t know the things I know or be able to read people the way I do. I wouldn’t be so resilient.”

“True, but don’t you get tired? Of being resilient? I was.”

“Not at all.”

She nodded, then walked down the steps and across the wet parking lot into the dark.

I thought about following her, offering her enough money for a motel room for the night, maybe dinner, but I knew she wouldn’t take it. I could see it in her eyes, she knew she’d taken enough. I chewed on my lip, watching the night swallow her without a sound.

A motorcycle growled in the distance, its headlight growing closer. Travis parked in his usual spot, shutting down his bike and walking toward me with curiosity in his eyes.

“Everything all right, Pidge?” he asked. He jogged up the stairs and kissed the corner of my mouth as I still stared into the night.

“Yeah, my, uh … my mom just left.”

He turned to search the cars in the lot. “Your mom? Where is she?”

“Gone.” I sighed. “Again.”

He led me into the apartment by the hand and closed the door behind us before pulling gently, holding me against him. “You okay?”

“Strangely enough, yes.” I pressed my cheek against his chest.

In truth I wasn’t sure how I felt. I’d always thought my mom was a lost, sad, alcoholic, and then she strolled back into my apartment with two lifetimes worth of wisdom and understanding.

He sniffed a few times, looking around the apartment. “Did she …?”

“Smoke in here? Yep. Until I took it.”

“Is she coming back?” he asked.

I hugged him tighter. “Nope.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Roads to Fate

Abby

“YOU SHOULD GO,” I SAID, touching his arm.

“To which one?” he asked.

“You don’t have a choice in going to California or not.”