Page 227 of Love Unwritten

Her icy facade cracks for a fraction of a second before she schools her features.

Good. It’s the least she deserves after making my son cry again.

“I’ve spent the last two fucking years covering for you because, regardless of how I feel toward you, he sees the good in you.”

She glances away. “I wanted to be there.”

“But you weren’t.”

She makes a face. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s always your excuse, and frankly, I’m sick of it. Hell, I was tired long before we ever got divorced.”

“Do not disrespect me in my own home.” She sounds so much like her proper, high-society mother when she uses that shrill tone, and it sends a chill down my spine.

She crosses her arms, and that’s when I notice a thin band of pale skin that is different from the rest of her ring finger.

Fuck me.

How long has she been engaged to her boyfriend, and why did it take me this long to figure it out?

My blood pounds in my ears, making my head pulse as I wrap my head around the fact that Hillary has kept her secret for who knows how long, all while I foot the bill.

You’re here for Nico. Not yourself.

I take a deep breath and try to dull my rage until it goes from a roaring fire to a burning ember inside my chest. “I get that you can’t stand me, but the person you’re hurting most in this process is your son.”

She at least looks slightly unhappy about it. Perhaps there is hope for her after all, although I won’t hold my breath.

She takes a deep breath. “I just…”

“What?”

Her upper lip curls. “I hate going to that damn town, knowing everyone is aware of my…”

“Affair.”

“Yes,” she says with a hiss. “Bring it up for the fiftieth time, why don’t you? It’s been a while since the last time you reminded me of it.”

I cross my arms. “We all make choices that have consequences.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to be reminded of them every time I go there!”

I pause. “So this is all about your reputation? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“You don’t understand what it’s like to be me.”

“No, I don’t. I guess I struggle to understand what it’s like to be a neglectful parent who cares more about their reputation than their own fucking child.”

She flinches. I don’t want to feel bad for her, but a small part of me does because I recognize that she will always be hollow inside, so long as she prioritizes other people’s opinions over her own blood.

“We both grew up with two different types of shitty parents, but the main difference between you and me is that you became just like them while I did everything possible not to.”

Her face pales. “I…”

I speak when she doesn’t. “Nobody can ever fill the void of a mother. You of all people should know that.”

She stares at her feet.