Page 172 of Vows We Never Made

“So why didn’t youtell me?”

I’m vibrating. Shock and anger running through my bones like a current, the fury of not knowing who or what the fuck I am.

Mom shakes her head, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“It was a mistake, a stupid—” She stops and drags in a deep breath. “Sit down, Ethan. Let me explain. Please.”

“No. I want answers, damn you.”

Dad goes to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, muttering something softly in her ear.

My chest heaves like it’s ready to explode.

“It’s okay, Elvira. Take your time,” he murmurs, softer with her than he’s ever been with us.

She grips his hand, squeezing it before looking back up at me.

“Your grandfather was a strict man growing up. He had certain ideas about how our family should be, and he never approved of Scott,” she whispers, her eyes flashing with a lifetime of anger. “Your father was an artist, you know. Leonidas always thought I could do better. He refused to understand we were in love. That miserable creature, he—”

“Shh,” Dad murmurs.

I stare at them, a united front.

I think I always vaguely knew Dad never really got along with Gramps either, despite my mother’s feelings. He never stepped in to broker peace and kept his distance. I thought he was always deferring to Mom, though.

Apparently not.

I toss the rest of my drink back, letting it burn the back of my throat.

“When Scott proposed, of course I said yes,” Mom continues, sinking into the sofa. She waves away Dad’s glass when he offers it to her. “We got engaged, but Leonidas was angry. He went off, said I was throwing away my life, the family legacy. He insisted Scott could never provide for me the way I deserved.”

“We fought like mad. We both said a lot of hurtful things. But with Mom gone, I had no one else to step in, let alone offerany advice. And the pressure he applied was so crushing. That’s when I messed up. I started thinking maybe he was right. I let his doubts poison me. Scott and I argued, and I—I cracked. I ran back to Maine, planning to break things off.”

A gnawing sensation in my gut tells me I know where this story is going, but I have to listen, even as it carves away my soul.

Mom’s face crumples. She turns away from Dad, pressing her fingers into her eyes.

“I’m not proud of what happened,” she whispers, her voice so low I can barely hear it. “It was the worst mistake of my life, hands down.”

Even though I know what she’s saying, and why, the words sting.

Whatever else happened, the outcome wasme.

I’m her biggest regret incarnate, the bastard made flesh.

“I was drunk, Ethan,” she continues. “Drunk and angry and lonely. I thought Scott was done with me, driven beyond the limit of any man. I thought we’d broken up, so I…”

“You don’t need to explain,” Dad whispers, still in that weirdly tender voice. But I see the hurt carved on his face.

Damn.

I drop my face into my hands.

“Who?” I ask hoarsely. “Who did you—”

“I don’t know,” she says, her voice thick. “A random sailor staying somewhere in Kittery. I can’t even remember his name. It was only two nights and I never saw him again. When I realized I was—when I knew, I tried looking for him. I found out he was married with a family.”

The hits just keep coming.