Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)

My father had put an end to it by pulling up roots and relocating us to Wyoming while my mom had flitted off to Paris with her man du jour.

To this day I wasn’t sure if living a totally different lifestyle in Wyoming was the best thing that’d ever happened to me or if my mother’s relocation to Paris and her having no influence on my decisions provided the catalyst I needed to change. The Sierra McKay who returned to Arizona to start college in no way resembled the Sierra Daniels who’d left Phoenix three years prior.

Thank god.

I’d come into my own during that time. I hadn’t done it alone; I could thank my dad, my new stepmom Rielle, my new sister Rory, the close connections I’d found with my new family and friends in Sundance, Wyoming. Even the heartbreak Boone West had brought about by leaving had helped transform me.

A transformation my mother hadn’t liked at all.

I’d grown self-confident enough in my years away from her that I’d hoped we could find common ground to reestablish a new, different mother-daughter relationship.

Then she’d fucked my boyfriend and thereby fucked any chance of being part of my life.

Four years later I was still good with that decision.

Which made me wonder why I was even here, waiting in line for the woman who’d given birth to me to acknowledge me.

She waited until she finished her conversation before signaling me to approach her.

“Mother. You look amazing.”

For that compliment I earned a somewhat sincere smile and the kiss-kiss cheek brush.

“Thank you, dear.” Before I could say anything else, she addressed the person in line behind me, with an effusive, “Joan! Darling, how are you?” dismissing me completely.

No surprise I practically skipped toward the bar.

I ordered Crown, but the snooty bartender informed me their top shelf whiskey was Jameson, so this event wasn’t starting out very promising.

“So kiddo, how long you think this phase will last?”

I faced Char, my mom’s best friend, the only other person who’d also suffered through years of the foibles of Ellen Bertrand Daniels. “I think she’s found the love of her life and her true identity.”

Char scowled. “With Bill?”

“No, with all of Bill’s bills.”

She snorted. “I think we’re both sitting in the back table. The crude friend and the daughter ain’t welcome in the prime seating areas.”

“It’s just as well. We’re closer to the bar.”

“Amen, sister.” She touched her bottle of Miller Lite to my lowball glass. “Did you tell Ellen not to invite you to this?”

“No. Why?”

“When I saw the guest list the first part of the week and you weren’t on it, I chewed her ass. Then I warned her if she didn’t invite you, I’d tell these snooty new friends of hers about the time she pissed in the birdbath at the Wrigley estate.” She flashed a mean grin. “I still may do that. But the point is, you’re her only kid. She oughta treat you better.”

I shrugged. “It is what it is, Char.”

“Well, she’s jealous of you, that’s what it is.”

“Right.”

Char leaned closer. “I’m serious, Sierra. She failed to turn you into a replica of her. She knows while she seeks validation and approval from all men, you only seek it from one man.” She swigged her beer. “Your father.”

Her insight didn’t surprise me as much as the fact she was still friends with a woman as insipid as my mother.

“Ellen and I have been through a lot over the years,” she started, which meant I’d voiced that comment out loud. “We’re friends more out of habit than anything. My invite to this shindig surprised the hell out of me. But Ellen needs to rub it in that she’s stepped up to a higher social standing. Sort of sad, when you think about it, because I’ve never given a shit about any of that.”

“You’re the only friend she hasn’t fucked over.”

“Oh, she’s fucked me over plenty of times. I forgave her mostly because I know I’m the only real friend she has left and I felt sorry for her. But I’m done.” She bumped my shoulder with hers. “I say we leave with a bang, kiddo.”

And so it began.

Clarissa somebody, who adored Ellen to the ends of the earth, was so, so thrilled that her dear, dear friend would once again join the ranks of those in matrimonial bliss.

Polite applause.

Patricia somebody relayed the cute story about how Bill and Ellen had met and how she’d snagged his heart.

Char came up behind me and whispered, “More like she snagged his wallet,” and handed me my second whiskey.

Irene somebody delivered a heartfelt toast about welcoming Ellen into the club, and jokingly added she was now eligible to be a golf widow like the rest of them.

That’s when it occurred to me why my mother hadn’t belonged to this kind of club before she’d met Bill. Single women, who looked like her, could probably cherry pick her next husband—from any of theirs.