"Naomi, sweetheart, your face looks…I don't know, frozen. And that's the fakest grin I've ever seen."
I would have glowered at her but I didn't want to spoil my nonchalant expression. "What did you want to meet me for? And don't tell me it's because you were worried about me. I've already told you there's nothing wrong."
"Can't I see my daughter for no other reason than that I miss her?"
No. There was always a reason. I decided to turn this around and aim the spotlight at her. Still smiling, of course. "Why don't you tell me why you look so sad, hmm?"
"I do not look sad." She assumed an airy pose, though it clearly took a concentrated effort on her part. "I was just curious about your social life, is all. You call me in the middle of the night, asking about love and marriage, and now I learn you're working for Royce Powell. Are you considering marriage to him?"
"Not even if it would save my soul from roasting in hell!" Smile, I reminded myself. I bared my teeth in what I hoped was a happy grin.
"Well." Her pointed stare bore into me, probing deep and completely unnerving me as only my mom could. "Are you? Be honest this time."
"No." Smile, damn it. "Of course not."
"Why not? And stop smiling like that."
I allowed my facial features to relax, but only slightly. "You know why."
"Because you saw him in a picture with that Summers woman? Or because of Richard the Bastard?" She scowled. "Jonathan might not have seen the way Richard changed you, but I did, and every day I curse that lying scumbag to everlasting hell for what he did to my baby's hopes and dreams. You're a beautiful, intelligent woman and you should be-"
A waiter appeared, cutting off the rest of her sentence. What had she been about to say? That I should be comfortable with the idea of marriage? If so, I didn't know what I could say in response. Once, I did have dreams of marriage, children and happily ever after. When Royce said every girl pictured herself in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle to pledge herself to the man she loved, he'd been right in my case, though I'd never admit it to him. I'd wanted those things at one time, very badly. Now I wanted to rely only on myself. I wanted to be happy because I made myself happy.
I sipped my latte while my mom ordered an espresso. The second the waiter moved away, she picked up our conversation but maneuvered it down a different path.
"I have something to ask you, Naomi, and I want you to tell me the truth. I won't be upset, I swear."
Oh Jeez. This didn't sound good. "All right," I said, bracing myself for impact. "I'll be honest with you." Maybe.
She sucked in a breath, paused, then swallowed. Sucked in another breath. Swallowed again.
"Out with it," I cried.
"Are you gay?"
"Mother!" My mouth dropped open and I sat for a long while in stunned disbelief. Only the thought that someone could take a picture of me looking like that snapped me out of it. "Why would you ask me something like that?" First Royce and now my mom. What kind of come-and-get-me-ladies vibe was I putting out there?
"I'm just curious, sweetie. Since your breakup with Richard the Bastard, you've become a dating recluse. Jonathan tells me this is a definite sign that you hate men."
Little Johnnie was a regular pain in my ass. I think he lived for analyzing every moment of my existence.
"Jonathan also says Richard the Bastard was a smoke screen," my mom finished.
"A smoke screen?" I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the reasoning behind this little gem.
"You know." She motioned with her hands. "A device used to fool those around you into believing what you want them to believe, and not what is the actual truth." That was a direct quote from Jonathan, I knew. I could almost hear his "helpful" voice while my mother spoke, as if she were channeling him.
Sweet Jesus, this was too much.
"I'm not into women, Mom. I really do like men."
Doubtful, she gazed down at the table. "If you're sure-"
"I'm sure. I want to have sex with men." God, I couldn't believe we were having this conversation.
"All right," she said on a sigh, "I believe you."
Her coffee was delivered, and she stared down at the cup for a long while. Another sigh slipped from her lips a split second before her face crumbled. "I think Jonathan is cheating on me."
The blurted words hit me like a disco globe falling from a domed ceiling. I'd expected this type of announcement in the first several years of their marriage. Not now. Fury blazed a hungry path through every part of me, even hotter and darker than when I'd first found out about Richard. For my mom's sake, I didn't allow it to emerge. Not yet. She needed comfort right now, not rage. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so, so sorry."
"I don't know what to do." Tears gleamed in her eyes, making the hazel irises look like swirling pools of brown and silver.
"Why do you think he's seeing someone else?"
"It all started when he bought me that damn lamp for my birthday. What woman wants a practical household item as her present?"
"No woman I know."
"He should have known better. But I think I nagged him about it too much because after that, he started coming home late. And he's been making secret phone calls. I know because he slithers out of bed when he thinks I'm asleep and goes into another room with his cell phone. Some evenings he even stinks of some musky bouquet-type perfume. You know I'd never wear anything like that. I wear lilies. Lilies!"
I somehow managed to retain a neutral expression. Inside, however, the fury bubbled and churned with greater force. I was a seething cauldron, ready to erupt. The late nights, the secret phone calls, the different perfumes…those had been the early signs with Richard.
"Maybe I drove him to it, it's just-it's just-" She wiped at her tears with a shaky hand. "I never thought he'd be like your father."
At first, I'd allowed myself to make excuses. Working late. Business emergency. A freak perfumed breeze that stuck to his clothes. When the excuses no longer worked, I'd blamed myself. I wouldn't let my mom do the same. Not this time, anyway. If he hadn't died of a heart attack, my mom would still be with my real dad.
Reaching out, I covered her hand with mine. "There's not a reason good enough for a man to cheat. Ever. It's his fault, his lack of integrity. Not yours."
"What should I do?" she whispered brokenly. "I can't go through this again."
"You need to hire a private investigator ASAP and catch him in the act."
"I don't know." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, refusing to meet my gaze. "What if I'm wrong?"
"There's only one way to find out."
"I don't know," she repeated.
"Will you have any respect for yourself if you do nothing? You did nothing with Daddy. You saw what Richard's affairs did to me. Don't let this beat you down. Be strong and take action."
"I-I just… "
I knew what that wavering meant, so I pounced on it before she could completely absolve the man. "If you don't want to hire a private investigator, don't. But I'm going to follow him."
She frowned and finally faced me. The tears were gone, at least. "Really, Naomi. Be serious."
"I'm dead serious." I was going to nail the bastard in more ways than one. Lie to my mom, would he? Cheat on my mom, would he? He'd picked the wrong girls to screw with. Detective Delacroix. That was me.
My mom pressed her lips together and reached out with her free hand, skimming her fingertips over my jaw. Tenderness shone from her features. "I've always thought of myself as the strong one for what I survived, but it's you. You're the one with true strength. Look at you, ready to defend my honor."