“No, because no one can be sure of what would’ve happened. He could’ve found other ways.” She strokes my cheek, my tears, and my anguish. “I want you to know and believe it wasn’t your fault, honey. None of it was.”
“But—”
“No buts, Cecily.” She’s crying, too, as much as I am, until tears stain her cheeks. “I was a victim, too, once, and the perpetrator was the one person who should’ve been protecting me.”
“Your mother?” I’ve only met her once, when she showed up at our door when I was seven, and I hated that woman at first sight. She’s a world-famous artist and had a haughty expression that rubbed me the wrong way.
She spoke to Mum as if she owned her. Papa and Uncle Kirian were there, and they kicked her out. Mum cried so much that night, and she told me that my estranged grandmother reminded her of her painful past.
Mum nods. “Yeah, so I know exactly what it means to be a victim, and if you push that energy inward, it’ll only lead to self-destruction, Cecy. You’re our little miracle, the one Xan and I had after a long journey of healing, and I know we can be very overprotective, but it’s only because we love you so much and don’t want you to go through what we did. So please don’t blame it on yourself. Take this as if I’m begging you. Blame it on us being horrible parents who didn’t see the signs.”
“No, Mum.” I jump up from my seat. “I didn’t let you see the signs. I dealt with them on my own because I thought the wound would eventually heal, but it only festered. This is not your fault.”
“It’s not yours either, Cecy.”
“I know.”
Hope blossoms between the tears like a newly planted flower. “You do?”
I nod. “It’s why I can talk about it now, you know. It took me a long time to come to terms with it, but I’ve met someone who convinced me not to deflect the blame inward. Ever since then, my own head doesn’t torture me as much and I’ve started to feel safe. I no longer have panic attacks and the instances of sleep paralysis have become few and far between.”
Mum’s hand falls from my cheek to my shoulder, and a warm smile peeks through. “Is that someone the American boy?”
I rub the side of my nose and nod. “His name is Jeremy.”
“Oh, look at you being so embarrassed at the mere mention of him.”
“Am not.”
“You just stroked your nose, which is an obvious habit you do whenever you’re embarrassed. I wonder what this Jeremy looks like. Is he handsome? Does he treat you well?”
“Yes to both.”
“Aw, why didn’t you bring him home with you?”
“He wanted to come, but I said no.”
She retrieves a tissue and wipes my tears, then frowns. “Why?”
“Remember Annika?”
“Your cute new friend?”
“Yeah, the one who’s a mafia princess.”
“Of course I do. She was so well-mannered.”
“Jeremy is her older brother.”
I pause, waiting for her to connect the links together.
“And what about it? Oh. Is Annika against this?”
“No. She doesn’t know yet. It’s…their background. Russian mafia. He’s the heir to his father’s empire. The same father who nearly killed Creigh for being with Annika?”
“I see.”
“Finally. But why do you sound so casual about it, Mum?”
“Well, to be honest, I still can’t find anything off with that. Your father certainly would, but I want to hug this Jeremy for being there for you during a difficult time and even convincing you not to think like a victim.”
“But his family is dangerous.”
“The world is dangerous, hon. But we don’t hide from it. We don’t bury our heads in the sand and pretend all is well. If you want something, either you fight for it, or you let it go so someone else can.”
“I don’t want to let him go.”
“Why not?”
“Because I love him.”
Mum smiles and I pause at the words that left my mouth so easily, so naturally, without my even having to think about it.
It’s true. I love Jeremy.
If I wasn’t sure before, all the time we’ve spent together recently has made me certain.
“There you have it, your answer.” Mum kisses the top of my head.
“But…but what if he doesn’t love me?”
“Who wouldn’t love my beautiful baby?”