Page 75 of Swept Away

Whether her stories always reach their satisfying end is less important as long as she enjoys a blooming romantic relationship.

In that regard, she and I couldn’t be more different.

As her hyphenated last name also suggests, she’s been married twice. Those two names belonged to her first and second husband, respectively.

She was briefly married to Christopher Stone, whom I don’t know much about since my mother left him before I was born.

And yes, she was pregnant with me when she left him and got married to Joshua Vines, my father.

My mother has never truly opened up about her first marriage. All I know is what she’s told me. She said it was a mistake and she shouldn’t have gotten married.

Christopher was a possessive man, and she didn’t feel like they were a good match.

She had an affair with Joshua and then married him.

Despite all that drama, she kept the two men’s last names like they were souvenirs.

I never met Christopher Stone.

My mother said the man left the country and settled down with a new woman in the Philippines.

Perhaps.

Who knows?

And Joshua was married to my mother for exactly eight years after I came into this world.

He found a new woman and fell in love, and my mother couldn’t be happier.

Sounds weird, but that’s how she sees these things.

She took it as a stroke of luck as she was once again free to love someone new.

An early retiree, she’s spent the last few years traveling the world, alone, but always keeping an eye out for someone new.

She’s had boyfriends, but it wasn't anything serious enough to discuss with me.

And now I have a feeling she has found someone again.

“Care to tell me more?”

She chuckles again before pausing and gathering her thoughts.

“I found this young cool man,” she starts.

Oh, shit.

“Mom? How young are we talking here?” I ask, overwhelmed by second-hand embarrassment. “Please don’t tell me he could be my brother.”

She laughs.

“Absolutely not. He couldn’t be your brother. He’s just younger than me. And he proposed to me, so now we’ll spend some time in Aruba. And by the way, he’s a millionaire,” she tosses at me casually like she’s talking about the color of his hair.

“A millionaire?” I screech.

“Yes.”

“Since when are you hooking up with millionaires?”