The Girl Next Door
Chapter 49

I hop out of my Jeep and smooth down my skirt before hurrying into El Toro, a popular Mexican restaurant in town. Under normal circumstances, this is one of my favorite places to eat. The chicken enchiladas are to die for. I don't really have much of an appetite.

But

today?

Mom drove down so we could have lunch together. It's been a couple of days since Dad dropped his bomb, and I've been checking in to make sure she's doing all right. So far, so good.

As I arrive at the hostess stand, I see Mom has already been seated at the back of the restaurant near the window. There's a huge margarita sitting in front of her. When the hostess leads me to the table, I give Mom a quick hug before settling on the chair across from her.

"Hi, sweetie," she says. Her gaze drifts over my floral-colored blouse and red skirt. "You look nice."

"Thanks. You do, too." I'm relieved to see that she hasn't fallen apart. I was worried she would be dressed in sweats. Not that I would blame her. Instead, she's looking fashionable in a black knee-length skirt and a pale pink blouse. Diamond earrings drip from her ears, and a matching tennis bracelet is wrapped around her wrist. Her black Chanel Jumbo Flap Bag sits on the table next to the window.

Mom picks up her glass and takes a healthy sip before setting it down. "This is quite good," she marvels. "Would you like one?"

Day drinking?

I shake my head. "No, I have a class in two hours." Not that people don't show up after having a few drinks, but still. It's never been my thing.

"Tell me what's going on in your life." She pauses before adding, "Sometimes it feels like all we do is talk about your father. I'm tired of it."

For a moment, I consider spilling the beans about Beck, but then I realize she didn't know we were seeing each other in the first place, so what would be the point?

"There's nothing new to report." It's probably for the best I never got around to telling her. Our relationship lasted a hot minute before it crashed and burned spectacularly.

I should have trusted my instincts instead of believing Beck was capable of change. It's disheartening to realize that my dad was right.

Mom purses her lips and searches my eyes. "Hmm, now why don't I believe you?"

I'm saved from further questions when our waitress arrives on the scene. Since I already know what I want to order, I don't bother perusing the menu. It's what I get every time I'm here. Chicken enchiladas with beans and rice. Yum.

Their mole sauce is freaking delicious. I could eat it by the spoonful. All right...so maybe I've done that once or twice.

Mom orders a chicken burrito and finishes her margarita before requesting another. I'm a little surprised by how quickly she sucked the sugary drink down.

After Brianna died, Mom was no stranger to having a few glasses of wine in the evening. During particularly rough patches, she'd polish off a bottle on her own. Numbing the pain with alcohol was one way she coped with her grief. I don't want her using it as a crutch to deal with the implosion of her marriage.

Once again, it makes me furious with Dad for yanking the rug out from under her feet.

The waitress leaves, and I nudge Mom's glass of water toward her.

When I can't stand another moment of the simmering tension, I say, "I know you don't want to talk about everything that's going on, but are you doing okay?"

She hoists a fake smile. "Of course, honey. I already told you there's nothing to be concerned about. It'll all get sorted out."

"I can't help but worry." I reach across the table and lay my hand over hers. "I want to help you through this, but I'm not sure how."

"I'm sorry." She stares at our clasped hands, and tears fill her eyes. "You should be worrying about senior year, not me."

"You have nothing to apologize for," I say, startled by her outburst of emotion. "You didn't do anything wrong." My voice grows steely. "Dad is the one who left without attempting to work through your issues." It's as if he struck a match, threw it in a puddle of gasoline, and then walked away when it turned into a raging inferno. It still blows me away that he could do this.

"It's my fault." When a tear slides down her cheek, she quickly swipes it away. "After your sister died, I checked out. I've spent the last couple of days going over everything in my head and what bothers me most is that I wasn't a better mother to you." Her words leave me feeling as if there's a vise constricting my chest so tightly it's impossible to suck in full breaths.

"Don't say that, Mom. You did the best you could."

"It's the truth." She releases a sigh and stares out the picture window we're parked in front of. It's a gorgeous day. The sun is shining brightly, and the sky is a deep cornflower blue filled with puffy white clouds that drift lazily by. It feels like the kind of day where nothing could be wrong in the world, and yet, my mother's life is in tatters.

Not just hers. Mine, as well.

Even though I've tried to push all thoughts of Beck from my mind, I can't help but dwell on the scene I walked in on. For a moment, I had wondered if I'd stumbled into the wrong office. It didn't seem possible that Beck would be sitting on the couch, legs outstretched while Dr. Hayes knelt between them.

It was pretty damn obvious what was about to go down.

Her.

Ugh. I just puked in my mouth.

Even though I told Beck we were done, he's been calling and texting non-stop. I finally blocked his number. There's nothing he can say to make this right. The thought of them fooling around behind my back makes me sick to my stomach. Mexican for lunch no longer seems like such a good idea.

I blink back to the present when Mom says, "I fell apart after Brianna died, and I never recovered."

None of us did.

"Mom, we don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

She dabs her eyes with a napkin. "Maybe if I'd been able to move on, this wouldn't have happened. Your father and I wouldn't have drifted apart."

I lean forward, closing some of the distance between us. "This isn't your fault. Did he ever tell you that he was unhappy?" When she shakes her head, I continue. "Instead of talking about what was really going on, he threw himself into work and-" "His secretary?"

A wave of shock washes over me. "That's who he's been seeing?"

She nods and shrugs. "I'm not proud to admit this, but I parked outside his work the other day and watched them walk out together. They were holding hands. Then he helped her into the car, and they left." Mandi?

He's been having an affair with his secretary?

That's such a cliché, it's almost embarrassing.

I don't know what to say other than, "I'm sorry, Mom."

"You know what burns my a*s the most?"

That's a loaded question.

When I remain silent, she continues. "That I would buy her gifts every year for Administrative Assistant Day."

Yeah...I could see how that would chafe.

"Apparently, my gifts weren't good enough since she helped herself to my husband instead."

Yikes.