Trust(67)

“What’s going on, anyway?” I said. “Why is Matt here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, Matt.”

A nod from him.

“We’re not talking about that now,” said Mom through gritted teeth. “Are you pregnant?”

“No!” I cried.

“Are you having sex with him?” A polished red fingernail took aim straight at John’s heart.

“God, Mom. Nothing happened. We were just lying here together, okay?” Which was basically the truth.

A smirk and low chuckle from Matt. Jerk. To think he’d been my favorite, but no longer. Even if he did teach me how to play pool. Meanwhile, the look Mom hurled at him over her shoulder would have nuked a lesser man. Matt just shrugged it off.

“She’s seventeen, babe,” he said. “Come on. Think about the sort of shit you or I got up to at that age.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I think I should go.” John finally found his shirt, pulling it on over his head. “Do you want me to go?”

“I think that would be best,” snarled Mom.

“I’ll talk to you later.” I grimaced. “Sorry about this.”

He nodded, picking up his shoes. Mom’s laser eyes bore into him as he slipped past, heading out into the hallway. It would be the first time he’d ever actually used our front door, funnily enough. Or not funny at all, as the look on Mom’s face indicated.

“Hold up,” I said, cocking my head, confused as all hell. “Is that an engagement ring?”

Mom’s mouth opened slightly. Matt just kind of smiled.

“What the hell?” I demanded.

“Could you give us a minute?” Mom asked Matt.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he answered, walking away.

“I love him,” said Mom, after he’d gone. “I couldn’t say no to him again.”

“That’s why you barged in here at this hour?”

“We may have had a little champagne to celebrate. I was excited.” Her voice firmed. “Also, it’s my house. I’ll barge in where I like, when I like, thank you very much.”

Bewildered, I shook my head. “So, let me see if I’ve got this right. You got back together with Matt months ago, lied to me about it, and now you’re getting married? And what do you mean you couldn’t say no to him again? He asked you before?”

Mom sighed, sitting beside me on my bed. Weirdest four-o’clock-in-the-morning family meeting ever.

“He wanted to get married the last time we were seeing each other. But you were so young . . .”

I scrunched up my face. “I wasn’t a baby. I was eleven.”

“Yes, and your hormones were raging.” She ruffled my hair with one hand. “I needed to be there for you. Plus, you might have liked Matt, but you weren’t ready for more. To have someone move in with us and be part of our life, full-time . . . it’s a big deal. If he even dared to try and stay too late, you’d start looking at the clock and glue yourself to my side.”

“I don’t remember that.”

Mom shrugged. “You were a little possessive. But you needed me more than he did. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It obviously is if I broke up you and the love of your life.” My eyes got itchy despite my best efforts. I was struggling to deal with this revelation and its history in the wake of being busted in bed with John. Guilt, discovery, loss, anger, and compassion bounced around in my mind, turning my insides upside down. “God, I was such a jerk.”

“You were a kid who needed her mom and didn’t deal with change too well.” Her arm slipped around my shoulders, drawing me in against her. “I’d say that’s pretty normal.”

“You shouldn’t have let me just break you up. And you shouldn’t have lied to me about seeing him again, either.”

“I chose to put you first and I do not regret that.”

Crap. A tear slipped over my cheek and I rubbed it away quickly with the palm of my hand. “Well, you should; you deserve a life too. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. And anyway, it all wound up perfectly fine.” She pressed a kiss to the top of my head, holding her hand out to let the ring sparkle in the light. “Right up until the part where I found you in bed with the local drug dealer. I put you first all those years ago because I wanted a good life for you. We were both working together for that. But now you’re throwing that all away. Even since—”

“That’s not who he is,” I cut her off. “He doesn’t do that anymore. Honest, Mom. He moved in with his uncle and he’s really trying hard at school. His uncle has this landscaping business and John works for him all the time. He’s a good person, I swear.” I sniffed, putting a lid on the weepies.

“No wonder your grades have been plummeting,” she said, deaf to my words.

“If anything, he keeps me on track.”

Her brow wrinkled in disbelief. “How?”

“Since the shooting, I just can’t seem to care about some things. Stuff like grades and schoolwork all seems so . . . I don’t know, irrelevant. But John’s not like that. He wants to achieve. He makes me study, helps me with math homework—”

“Climbs into bed with you . . .”