Page 60 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

“Oh, Mom.” I search her features. “That’s not true. I did need you. I always wanted you to notice me. To approve of me.”

“I realize that now.” She blinks rapidly.

“When you chose medicine over magazines, it felt like you were rejecting me. You weren’t, of course.

But it felt like that to me. It’s why I didn't reach out to you after you left. Even though, not a day has gone by when I didn’t want to call you and ask you how you were. ”

She touches my hand.

“I'm ashamed to admit, my pride got in the way.

You were the daughter; I was the mother.

I was adamant that it was you who should apologize to me for not staying in touch.

" She swallows hard. "Then I realized, if I didn’t talk to you, I was the one missing out.

If I wanted a relationship with you, then it was up to me to take the first step in healing the gap in our relationship. "

She notices me staring and smiles a little. "I know, I sound so mature, right?"

"Umm…" I wonder if I should speak my mind and realize it’s best I do. Clearly, my mother’s had a change of heart, and if I want any kind of relationship with her, it's best to start off being as honest with her as possible.

Besides, she just complimented my judgment.

"You do, actually. Surprisingly so," I admit.

It’s her turn to look taken aback, then she chuckles. "You’ve always had more courage than me when it comes to speaking your mind."

"I don’t think so." If only she knew how many things I’ve hidden, even from myself.

I shake my head. "It wasn’t all your fault that we didn’t speak for all this time.

I, too, wanted to pick up the phone and call and apologize to you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so.

Somehow, every time I reached for the phone"—I swallow—"I couldn’t get past how uncomfortable I felt all through the time I was growing up at home. "

She looks at me with wide eyes. "You…were uncomfortable?" She looks so upset.

"Forget I said that… I don’t know what’s causing me to be more open than usual."

"Probably, because you’re mirroring me, and I’m trying not to hide my thoughts from you, either."

Again, I stare, astounded. "Wow… You sound like you’re?—"

"—in therapy." She blows out a breath. "I am. I had to be. I had to understand why you and I never did get along when you were growing up."

"That’s not true. When I was little, you were my best friend," I point out.

"I know," she says softly. "Watching Audrey Hepburn movies with ice cream late into the night and being warned by your father that I was spoiling you."

"I still can’t pass a Tiffany shop or see a Tiffany packaging or hear about it without thinking of you."

"We did have some good times." She nods, eyes shining.

"Then I hit puberty?—"

"—and overnight, I was your worst enemy." She flinches. "Apparently, it’s not uncommon that mothers and daughters don’t get along. Anything from boundary issues to generational patterns."

The words trip off her tongue like she’s said them many times, or read about them a lot.

"Wow, you really are in therapy." I look at her, wide-eyed.

"Mind you, it wasn’t voluntary, not at first. But your father told me it was time for me to sort out my relationship with you.

He’d had enough of me moping around the house and feeling sorry for myself.

" She laughs. "And it wasn’t easy. I had to go through a few therapists before I found someone I vibed with. But now, I’m one of those obnoxious people who can’t complete a conversation without bringing my therapist into it. "

She rolls her beautiful, kohl-lined eyes.

I’ve always admired how she always looks so put together.

And how she takes pains with her appearance.

Maybe, that’s why I chose a profession where I don’t have time to dress up, or style my hair, or take care of my nails, the way I remember my mom spending time on those things.

"How are you, darling?" She takes my hand in hers. "Are you happy?"

"I am." I hesitate.

She frowns. "You did want to get married, didn’t you?"

"Of course." I look at her, surprised. "He didn’t force me to elope. In fact, it was my idea."

"Oh." Her shoulders sag. "You didn’t want us to be at the wedding?"

"It wasn’t that… It was—" It’s my turn to lower my chin. "Yeah, that was part of it. But really, I wasn’t ready to be the center of attention. I didn’t feel ready to have everyone important in my life there while I vowed myself to a man who I was figuring out my feelings for."

"So, if you weren’t ready, why did you get married?" She frowns.

"It’s not like that. I knew I trusted him—" And I do trust him. Until I said it aloud, I didn’t realize how much.

"I wanted to be with him. I guess, in a way, I didn’t want to second-guess myself.

I wanted to follow my instinct to the logical conclusion and not give myself a chance to wriggle out of it.

Because I knew he’d be good for me." If only, I could also share everything about my past with him?

And I should be able to, because I just admitted to myself that I do trust him.

"It didn’t hurt that he had the necessary influence to stop the ER where I work from closing down. "

"Is that why you married him? So, he could help your career."

I shake my head. "I thought that was the reason, but I was kidding myself. No, I married him because?—"

"You love him." My mom completes my statement.

"What? No—" My voice tapers off. Do I love him?

I know I have feelings for him, but… Love?

Could I have fallen in love with my husband so quickly?

Sure, he knows how to bring me pleasure and fulfillment, but it's not that, really…

It's because… There's something about him that makes me want to believe that I can live out the rest of my days with him.

An instinctual reaction where I'm drawn to him. Where I feel like he’ll be there for me, no matter what. Unlike Drew.

Oh my God. When did my feelings got all confused?

Did a part of me hope I could keep a distance from him? Is that why I agreed to marry him? Thinking I wouldn’t let myself fall for him. But I did. My head spins. I let myself be open to being hurt again. How could I do this? I jump to my feet. "I… I need to get back to the hospital."

My mum rises with me. "But honey, they’re all waiting for you for dinner."

"I… I can’t." To my relief my phone vibrates. I pull it out of my bag and hold it up. "See, the hospital needs me; it’s an emergency."