An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three) Read online

  I knew people’s parents split up all the time. I knew it was more common than not these days. Ryan’s parents had divorced shortly after we’d started college. But I had never once believed it could happen to my parents. In my wildest dreams, I wouldn’t have predicted that this could happen. I had thought they were the definition of a couple in love.

  A new thought crept in, scaring me worse than anything else had that night. If I could be so clueless about my own parents, what else was I wrong about?

  * * *

  I talked to my dad several times a day over the next week, calling him before work, on my lunch break, and at least once in the evening, when I knew he’s be alone in that big old house. Every time we talked, he assured me that he was fine, that he was hanging in there and I shouldn’t worry. On the third day, I asked him if I should call the other girls.

  He sighed into the phone. “Maybe I should do it,” he said, sounding sad. “I was hoping she’d be home by now and we’d never have to worry them, but now…”

  He trailed off and I felt sick for him. It was Friday, an entire week since he’d come home to find Mom’s suitcase in the hall. He still hadn’t heard from her.

  “I’ll call them, Daddy,” I said firmly. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

  I did not tell him that I had plans to meet with my mother the next afternoon for lunch. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. God only knew what kind of explanation she’d be able to offer. Instead I told him, for the hundredth time, that he should call me if he needed anything else.

  “Chris and I are going to come down on Sunday,” I reminded him. “But you can call anytime before that.”

  “I’m fine, Ash, just fine,” he assured me. But I was pretty sure I heard his voice crack. I hung up the phone feeling something close to rage for my mother.

  The next day was Saturday, which usually meant sleeping in. But I was up at sunrise, my stomach churning as I thought about seeing my mom. I moped around all morning, the worried feeling not abating, until it was time to get dressed. I took my time getting ready, choosing my clothes carefully as I usually did when I knew I’d be seeing her. The habit of always wanting to impress my mother apparently hadn’t diminished with the events of the past week.

  “Are you going to tell her about the engagement?” Emily asked when I joined her in the kitchen for coffee. I had told Emily about my parents on Wednesday. Predictably, she’d been awesome about it, seeming to understand how little I wished to discuss it but asking after my dad each day, knowing I was worried about him.

  “I guess so,” I said, stirring my coffee and feeling sick. “I kind of don’t want to, but I guess that’s just spite.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she said, shaking her head.

  I looked up at the clock and sighed. “I guess I should go.” I stood up and straightened my dress, which was pale purple with a gathered waist and full A-line skirt. “How do I look?”

  “Ridiculously pretty,” she said, smiling at me.

  I managed to smile back before heading out to the living room to find my coat.

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of the restaurant. My mother’s silver Lexus was already there, and I straightened my shoulders, readying myself to see her.

  When I found her sitting at a table inside, she looked the same. I wasn’t sure why I thought she’d be different. Her blonde hair was in its usual perfect bob, not a hair out of place, her face perfectly made up. She was wearing an emerald cardigan that set off her eyes. And I knew she would smell like Chanel No 5, her signature scent.

  “Ashley.” My mother smiled when she saw me, and stood. I allowed her to wrap me up in a hug, though I didn’t return it. “It’s good to see you, darling,” she said, releasing me as her eyes did their familiar quick assessment of my clothes. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you,” I said, stiffly. I noticed that she didn’t meet my eyes. She seemed happy enough, and I felt a little stab of anger.

  “So, how have you been?” she asked, settling herself back in her chair. “Is work going well?”

  “Work is fine,” I answered taking my seat.

  “I see your hair is starting to grow out. It looks much more flattering now.” I felt a familiar flash of resentment at her passive-aggressive insult, but kept my mouth shut.

  “How’s Chris?” she continued. “And Emily and Ryan?”

  “Everyone is fine, Mom.” When I didn’t elaborate, she sighed.

  “I can see that you’re preoccupied with your father and me. Fine, let’s order lunch, and then we can talk.”

  We both ordered salads and lemonade, my mother smiling at the waiter as if he was her best friend. Ryan always said that when she talked to you, no matter what it was about, she made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

  “What happened, Mom?” I finally asked once the waiter had left, unable to keep it in any longer.

  “Ashley, you’re a big girl now, so I’m going to be honest with you.” She fingered her string of pearls, looking slightly vulnerable for a moment, but then it was gone, and she was her old perfectly together self once more. “Your father and I got married when we were very young. Neither of us took the time to see what else was out there. My entire life has been that house and that man.”

  “That man?” I spluttered. “You mean my father? You mean your husband?”

  “Don’t get melodramatic on me, Ashley,” she said. She sounded so calm I wanted to scream. “I’m trying to explain this to you. I’ve been feeling trapped for some time. I need some space, some room to figure out what I want going forward. I don’t feel I can do that in that house, with your father. Is that so hard to understand?”

  “I just don’t get why you couldn’t talk to him! You completely blindsided him with this. If you would have told him how you were feeling, you know he would have been supportive. He would have tried to help you figure it out.”

  “Oh, yes, he would have been supportive,” she said, and I detected a slight sneer in her voice. “That’s your father, always so kind and supportive.”

  “He is,” I said hotly, irritated by her sarcastic tone. Why did it sound like she thought those were bad traits?

  “I know he is, Ashley,” she said, sighing. “But this wasn’t the kind of thing I felt he could support me through.”

  “But why—”

  “What if I decide the thing I’m missing is a single life, huh?” she shot back. “How could I ask him to support me through that?”

  I felt like she had thrown cold water over me. “Are you cheating on Daddy?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, her voice cold. But did I detect defensiveness in her tone? Before I could argue with her, the waiter arrived with our food, and she was all smiles and sweetness again.

  Once he was gone, she continued. “Listen, Ashley, this isn’t some soap opera,” she said easily, sprinkling pepper over her salad, sounding as unconcerned as if she was talking about the weather. “There’s no reason to start imagining some crazy scenarios. I needed a break, and I took it. Your father will be fine. I will be fine. You need to stop worrying about it.”

  “What do your friends say?” I asked. Her hands froze over her salad, and I knew I had scored. My mom’s crowd was not into scandal. I couldn’t imagine many of her church friends, or the stuffy ladies in her charity group, being too supportive of the prospect of her moving into a hotel to find herself.

  “It’s none of their business,” she said firmly. I wondered if she was trying to convince herself or me.

  When it became clear that she wasn’t going to offer more explanations, I sighed loudly and attacked my salad, barely tasting it. “I think the girls should know,” I said finally. “Amy and Allison. Do you want to tell them, or should I call them?”

  That same flash of vulnerability crossed her face, but this time she was unable to wipe it away as quickly. “I suppose I should…”

  I wondered who she was more worried about finding out, All
ison or Amy? Amy, the youngest, had always been doted on by both parents. Allison and I had always contended that, because she was so spoiled, she was way more immature than either of us had been at her age. I could hardly believe she had managed to go away to college, though she did tend to call my parents to fix every little problem she encountered.

  Allison, on the other hand, had never been very close with our mom. I think she resented the way Mom liked for everything to be perfect. I could sympathize; there was definitely some pressure that went along with living up to my mother’s expectations. But while Amy and I had gotten used to it, Allison had instead spent her life rebelling. She dyed her blonde hair black when we were teenagers, had smoked cigarettes behind the house, and had taken off for a job in Boston as soon as she graduated from college. She still lived there now, only coming home for holidays.

  Whose judgment was my mom more worried about incurring? Spoiled little Amy who idolized her? Or hard and prickly Allison, who had been judging her for her entire life, though for completely different reasons?

  “I’ll call Ally,” I said finally. “If you don’t want to talk to her. But I think you should call Amy.”

  Mom sighed, visibly relieved. “I think that would be best for both of them.” I resisted the urge to snort. Yeah, I bet she was worried about what was best for them. She might not like telling Amy what she had done, but if she was the one to spill the beans, at least she could talk herself up, make Amy think she had done nothing wrong. Amy would believe whatever she said anyhow.

  We ate in silence for a moment. I desperately tried to think of a way to reason with her, some argument that would help her see what she was doing to my dad. I wanted her to change her mind, to go back home immediately. I wanted to pretend that none of this had ever happened, so I could go back to believing that my parents’ relationship was as perfect as I had always thought.

  Would I be able to forget though? Even if she came to her senses and went home, would I ever be able to forget that this had happened? What if this whole mess changed the way that I thought about true love forever—

  “Ashley, what is that?”

  My mother’s sharp voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up in surprise and saw that she was staring at my left hand. The ring.

  I met her eyes. “It’s an engagement ring, Mother.”

  Her eyes immediately snapped back down to my hand. She was quiet for a moment, staring at the ring. “Oh, sweetheart,” she finally whispered. “Oh, Ashley, congratulations!”

  I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. I had thought she would be angry or hurt that I hadn’t told her, or, at the very least, embarrassed about ruining her own marriage when I was looking to start one. But instead she jumped up from her chair, rushing around the table to hug me. Baffled, I hugged her back. Once she had released me, she pulled her chair to the side of the table so she could sit next to me, grabbing my hand to see the ring better. She took a napkin from the table and dabbed at her eyes. Was she crying?

  “He did very well,” she said approvingly, sniffing slightly. “Very well. How many carets?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said stiffly. Her reaction had irked me, for some reason. What right did she have to be so excited about this when she was messing everything up?

  “I’d say at least two,” she said, peering closer. “Oh, Ashley. I’m so happy for you. When did he ask you?”

  “Valentine’s Day,” I said, unable to keep the ice from my voice. “The day after you left Dad. In fact, we came to the house on Tuesday with the intention of telling you both.”

  Something flickered across her face, guilt maybe, but it was gone in an instant. She gave me a huge smile. “Well, we just have so much to do, don’t we?”

  “We do?”

  “Of course! Throwing a wedding is a huge deal, Ashley. It takes months of planning. Have the two of you set a date yet?”

  “No, Mother,” I snapped. “Our plans kind of got pushed to the side after we found Daddy so upset.”

  My mother waved her hands as if brushing my father away like a pesky fly. “Don’t be silly. You can’t let worrying about your father get in the way of this happy time. Didn’t I tell you he would be fine? Now, we should think about this carefully. A summer wedding, of course, would be best, but do we have enough time? Hmm, it’s only six months until August, isn’t it? A fall wedding could be nice, I suppose, so many nice colors to go with the leaves…”

  I stared at her, unhearing, as she rattled on about seasonal pros and cons. She was turning into Amber Phillips, social planner extraordinaire, right before my eyes. I felt almost dizzy as I watched her pull out her date book and start looking at dates. It was like the topic of her leaving my father had never come up.

  I left the restaurant twenty minutes later with firm instructions to talk with Chris about the possibility of having the wedding in late August. Worried about this short notice, she was going to immediately inquire at the boat club and the country club to see if either had availability. The subject of her own marriage appeared long forgotten.

  * * *

  “She’s insane,” I said to Chris that afternoon, throwing myself down onto the couch. “Seriously, what is wrong with her?”

  “Maybe she’s just trying to make you feel better?” he offered, pulling my legs up onto his lap so he could rub my feet. “Maybe this is her way of apologizing for making you so upset about your dad.”

  “Well, it’s not working,” I grumbled. “I just feel worse now, like she’s trying to cover up what she did by planning a stupid fancy wedding.”

  I caught the expression on Chris’s face and I winced. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean…”

  He waved my apology away. “I know. So did you tell her you don’t want her help?”

  “How could I? I could barely get a word in edgewise. You know what she’s like. She just went on and on. I’m supposed to ask you what you think about an August wedding.”

  “I don’t really care,” he said, shrugging, and I tamped down a flash of irritation. It would be nice if he would express an opinion every so often.

  “Well, we better make some decisions. She’s going to call me on Monday.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the couch. Chris paused in rubbing my feet.

  “We can take all the time we want, Ash. I know you’re upset about all of this mess with your folks. Don’t push yourself to make any decisions until you know how you feel, okay?”

  My eyes snapped open. “You still want to get married, don’t you?” I couldn’t keep the note of panic out of my voice, but Chris only laughed.

  “Of course I do,” he said. “But I don’t want you to feel any pressure, okay? Not from your mother, not from anyone. You’re allowed to take your time and see how you feel.”

  “I don’t know, maybe it would help,” I said, sighing again. “To have something to… look forward to.” I had nearly said it would be nice to have something to take my mind off things, but I had a feeling Chris wouldn’t be too thrilled with me equating our wedding to a distraction, no matter how needed that distraction might be.

  “I should probably call Allison,” I said. “Get that over with.”

  “Do you want some privacy?”

  I smiled at him gratefully, and he extracted himself from the couch, kissing the top of my head before he went into the kitchen. I pulled out my cell phone and sighed, not looking forward to this conversation at all.

  “Hello?”

  “Ally?” I asked, smiling in spite of myself. I hadn’t talked to my sister in a while. It was nice to hear her voice.

  “Hey, Ash!” she said, sounding happy to hear from me as well. “How the hell are ya?”

  I laughed. “I’m okay. How about you? How’s Boston?”

  “Fabulous, of course,” she said. “I have no idea why you haven’t come out here to live with me yet. You wouldn’t believe how great it is to live in actual civilization.”

  I rolled my eyes ev
en though she couldn’t see me. Allison had a tendency of putting down her hometown. It drove my dad crazy, but I had a feeling it had a lot more to do with her own insecurities than her actual opinion of Detroit. It was almost like she needed to justify the choices she had made in leaving.

  “So, what’s new, sis?”

  “Well, I have some good news and some bad news,” I said. “What do you want first?”

  “You pick.”

  “Okay. Let’s get the bad news out of the way.” I took a deep breath. “Mom moved out.”

  Allison was silent on the other end of the phone. “You there, Al?”

  “What do you mean, Mom moved out?”

  I sighed. “She took off. She moved out of the house. Told Dad she needed space.”

  “Holy shit,” Allison whispered.

  “You’re telling me. Dad, of course, is devastated. He has no idea what to do with himself.”

  “Have you talked to Mom?”

  “I just had lunch with her, yeah. She seemed…well, to be honest with you, she seemed fine. It’s like she has no idea that what she did was wrong.”

  Allison was quiet again for a bit. “Did she say why?”

  “She said she feels trapped, like she doesn’t know what she wants anymore. So I guess she wants some space.” Allison didn’t respond. “You doing okay? You’re awfully quiet.”

  “It’s just a lot to process,” she said softly. “I would have never imagined she had it in her.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing,” I said, irked. “Like you’re impressed or something.”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like…it’s just, man, Ash. If she was really unhappy, don’t you think it took some balls for her to admit it? After the life she built there, the way she always had to be so perfect all the time. This kind of flies in the face of her image.”

  “I should have known that’s what you would care about,” I muttered. “Focus on her status and all that crap that you always complained about.”

  “Ash, I’m not—”