Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Damn it, I hate that her reasoning makes sense to me. Kynan just accepted it when I called it over. He obviously tried to push it when I broke it off, but he never followed up with me. Didn’t keep trying. He’d given up very easily, just the way I had when I saw the photo of him hugging who I now know to be Rachel.
We both gave up, so did we even have anything real at all?
Still, it’s not the point of my anger. “Mom… you didn’t go about it the right way. The right way would have been to tell me your concerns. It would have been to ask for my input and make me part of the decision-making process. Instead, you lied to me. You manipulated two people. I guess what I don’t understand is how you thought it was okay? Where in all of this did you actually lose your moral compass and are you still without it? Because if so, how can we ever have a real relationship?”
The expression on my mom’s face morphs from one of angst and guilt to one of incredible pain. Her gaze lowers to the floor, and her voice trembles. “I’m not sure I deserve to have one with you. What I did was terrible.”
She sounds broken and as if she’s given up. It’s then I realize while I might be terribly angry, I don’t want to lose her either. I want her to fight to have something with me.
I stride across the room, then take my mom’s hands in mine. Her head snaps up in surprise.
“Come here,” I say as I lead her over to a burgundy overstuffed leather couch. I sit on the edge because sitting fully on the cushion would cause me to sink in, which means my legs wouldn’t reach the floor. Mom follows and also mimics my pose, turning her knees into mine. I don’t let go of her hands.
“I want to make this right with you, Joslyn.” Her eyes are locked onto mine, her expression earnest. “Just tell me how, and I’ll do it.”
A sound of dismay bubbles up in my throat, and I give a mirthless laugh as I shake my head. “I have no clue what to have you do.”
“Let me apologize again,” she says, giving my hands a hard squeeze. “And I know I can tell you one thing… I’m not the same woman I was then. And the woman I was then—the one who set Kynan up to take a fall—wasn’t the same woman you knew as your mom growing up.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is when your father died, you were all I had left. You weren’t a child of my blood, but you were the child of my heart. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, and I promised your dad on his death bed I’d always look out for you. He wanted you to be a star. I wanted that, too, for him to look down from heaven and see you get all the success you deserved.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I rub them away. “But by controlling my career, you forgot there were other things that could make me happy.”
She nods, the sad frown on her face a testament she realizes how badly she fucked up. “I didn’t consider anything outside of your career. I became so focused on it, and Joslyn… I’d be lying to you if I didn’t admit I liked the limelight, too. It was so easy to get swept up in it all as your manager. It gave me purpose and acknowledgment, two things I was sorely lacking after your father died. If there’s one thing I’m most ashamed of, it’s that some of my behavior was for my personal happiness, too. And that’s why I would totally understand if you didn’t forgive me. It’s really inexcusable what I did.”
We both stare at each other through watery eyes. I can’t detect a single note of duplicity in her voice. She didn’t try to excuse her actions but owned up to full responsibility. Sure… I doubt if I hadn’t shown up on her doorstep, she would have brought this up herself, but really… who would? It’s so easy to just steep in guilt and let it lie under the blanket of denial than to own up to your mistakes. It’s human nature.
Leaning in, I move my hands to her shoulders and give her the truest words I ever said. “I forgive you.”
“Really?” she asks on a half-sob, her hands going to my wrists. “Because I’d understand it if you didn’t, but it would mean the world if you did.”
“Really,” I answer. “I understand why you did it, and you’ve accepted responsibility. I really believe you’re remorseful. How could I ever disrespect such genuineness?”