A Mother Would Know (77)

Theo.

And Molly.

I should’ve known—surely one former adulterer could spot another. But it hadn’t even crossed my mind. I chalked that look up to run-of-the-mill jealousy. Kendra had been so insecure lately. I thought it was wrapped up in all of that postpartum angst. I never once believed that Theo had given her a reason to feel that way.

“Now I get it.” Hudson shakes his head. “Theo. That was her type. Must be why she shot me down, then.”

“Shot you down? When?” I ask.

“That night at Midtown Saloon. I asked her out. She said she wasn’t interested. Now I know why.” His eyes meet Kendra’s. “She already had a man. Kendra’s.” He waggles his eyebrows, clearly enjoying this.

“Fuck you, Hudson,” Kendra says.

“Maybe I was wrong about Theo’s arms being too scrawny to strangle anyone. Maybe he did kill Molly,” Hudson says.

Oh, god, could that be true? My head slowly rolls over toward Kendra. I’m still finding it hard to get my body to obey my brain.

She narrows her eyes. “No,” she says flatly. “Theo wouldn’t hurt her. He was planning to leave Mason and me for that whore.” Her tone is laced with disgust. “He was gonna choose a slob who eats junk food, drinks like a fish, wears trashy lingerie and fucks married men over me. Can you believe that?” She looks at me. “Well, I guess you can believe it.”

She knew. She knows.

I was always afraid she might. That both of them would learn about the affair. The rumor mill was going at warp speed at the time. Fans were speculating about the breakup and Mac’s death—what could have caused it—and I suspected that eventually Kendra and Hudson would hear about it online, if not from some cruel classmate. But neither of them had ever mentioned it, so I’d allowed myself to believe that they were the only two people that didn’t know.

“You know, I caught you once,” Kendra says, her attention fixed on me. “It was before a show. One that Dad took us to, actually.” I lick my dry lips, wishing I could hide under the covers. “I wanted to see you before you went out, wish you luck. Usually, Dad didn’t let me, but this time he did. I think because we were so close to the back. I didn’t have to walk far to get to you.” She pauses, and even Hudson appears uncomfortable, his lips pursed, his eyes squinty. “I was thirteen, but I remember feeling so grown-up walking through the bar alone, heading back to the dressing rooms reserved for the band. When I got to yours, I saw the sign with your name and I felt so proud—my mom, the rock star.”

Oh, god.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she continues. “I opened the door a little just to poke my head in and say hi. I didn’t want to barge in. But with the door open just a crack...that’s when I saw you and Mac all over each other.”

My cheeks burn. Hudson’s frown has deepened.

“I’m so sorry, Kendra.” It’s the only thing I can think to say.

“Are you really sorry, Mom?” She’s pacing now, the way she does when agitated.

Hudson’s watching her as if planning a move. I catch his eye and shake my head. Kendra’s obviously hurting. The only way of surviving this is to placate her.

“Yes,” I say honestly.

“Liar.” She laughs bitterly. “You never cared about Dad.”

“That’s not true,” I say.

“It is,” she says firmly.

“C’mon, Kendra,” Hudson starts, but Kendra cuts him off.

“He fucking worshipped her, and she neglected him. Treated him like shit.” Her words are loud, venomous. I recoil. “She’s the reason he’s gone. He drank himself to death because he was depressed and lonely.”

She’s wrong, of course. Her dad didn’t start drinking because of my affair with Mac. He didn’t know about it until after Mac died. He suspected it earlier than that, but I’d never admitted it. In my grief, the truth had become obvious to Darren. And then when the band shunned me and everyone found out, his suspicions were confirmed.

But his drinking problems had started years before that.

A tear falls from Kendra’s eye, and she angrily brushes it off. “I tried to be enough for him, but I wasn’t. It was her he wanted.” She says her like it’s a dirty word.

I’m struck with the memory of Kendra as a child, the way she’d follow her dad around.

“My little shadow,” he’d tease in a singsong way, touching the tip of her nose with his finger. She’d giggle, wriggling her nose and nestling into him.

When she got older, it was him she went to with her problems. Him she’d call when she was in trouble. It may have been part of the reason it meant so much when Hudson reached out to me. At least one child wanted me, so I couldn’t have been a total failure, right?

“I’ve always hated you for the way you treated him,” she says quietly, her shoulders dipping as if she’s just released the weight of a lifetime of loathing.

“That’s why you did this to me? Just because of your dad?” I ask. Drugging me slowly, making me question my sanity—it’s such an elaborate scheme, and so many years after Darren’s death.

She snorts. “You still don’t get it. You never have.”

“I’m trying,” I say desperately.