“Go home, Mom.”
I watched her walk out.
For years, I’d wanted to hear him say those words.
Now they came too late.
Jake followed me into the bedroom while Maya carried my bag downstairs.
“Please listen,” he said. “I was attracted to you. I liked your energy. I liked that you didn’t care what people thought.”
“But you thought I’d grow out of it.”
“I thought we’d both change.”
“Did you know about the inheritance when you asked me out?”
“No. Not at first.”
“Did knowing make you more certain about marrying me?”
He sat on the edge of our bed.
I waited.
Finally, he whispered, “It made the future look easier.”
“For us?”
He looked away.
“For everyone, I guess.”
There it was.
No dramatic confession.
Just the truth, arriving much too late.
“Your mother encouraged you to marry me because of it.”
“She did.”
“And you let me believe she’d finally accepted me.”
