“You would’ve if you’d asked.”
There was a hurt note in my mother’s breathy voice that made me wince. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said again, having learned as a child that repeated apologies went a long way with her. “I needed to spend some downtime with Cary. We can talk about a future trip to Vegas, though, if you’d like to go sometime.”
“Wouldn’t that be fun? I’d like to do fun things with you, Eva.”
“I’d like that, too.” My eyes went to the picture of my mother and Stanton. She was a beautiful woman, one who radiated a vulnerable sensuality to which men responded helplessly. The vulnerability was real—my mom was fragile in many ways—but she was a man-eater, too. Men didn’t take advantage of my mom; she walked all over them.
“Do you have plans for lunch? I could make a reservation and come get you.”
“Can I bring a co-worker?” Megumi had hit me up with a lunch invitation when I’d come in, promising to regale me with the tale of her blind date.
“Oh, I’d love to meet the people you work with!”
My mouth curved with genuine affection. My mom drove me nuts a lot, but at the end of the day, her biggest fault was that she loved me too much. Combined with her neurosis, it was a maddening flaw, but one motivated by the best of intentions. “Okay. Pick us up at noon. And remember, we only get an hour, so it’ll have to be close by and quick.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’m excited! See you soon.”
*
Megumi and my mother took to each other right away. I recognized the familiar starry-eyed look on Megumi’s face when they met, because I’d seen it so often over the years. Monica Stanton was a stunning woman, the kind of classic beauty you couldn’t help but stare at because you couldn’t believe anyone could be that perfect. Plus, the royal purple hue of the wingback she’d elected to sit in was an amazing backdrop for her golden hair and blue eyes.
For her part, my mom was delighted by Megumi’s fashion sense. While my wardrobe choices leaned more toward traditional and ready-to-wear, Megumi favored unique combinations and color, much like the décor of the trendy café near Rockefeller Center my mom had taken us to.
The place reminded me of Alice in Wonderland, with its gilt and jewel-toned velvets used on uniquely shaped furniture. The chaise Megumi was perched on had an exaggerated curved back, while my mother’s wingback had gargoyles for feet.
“I’m still trying to figure out what’s wrong with him,” Megumi went on. “I was looking, let me tell you. I mean a guy that great shouldn’t be slumming it with blind dates.”
“Hardly slumming it,” my mom protested. “I’m sure he’s wondering how he lucked out with you.”
“Thanks!” Megumi grinned at me. “He was seriously hot. Not Gideon Cross hot, but hot all the same.”
“How is Gideon, by the way?”
I didn’t take my mom’s question lightly. She was aware that Gideon knew about the abuse I’d suffered as a child, and she’d taken the news hard. It was her greatest shame that she hadn’t known what was going on under her own roof, and her guilt was enormous, as well as entirely undeserved. She hadn’t known because I’d hidden it. Nathan had made me fear what he’d do if I ever told anyone. Still, my mother was anxious about Gideon’s knowing. I hoped that she’d soon come to realize that Gideon didn’t hold it against her any more than I did.
“He’s working hard,” I answered. “You know how it is. I’ve taken up a lot of his time since we hooked up, and I think he’s paying for it now.”