Reaching out, I covered her hand with mine. "There's not a reason good enough for a man to cheat. Ever. It's his fault, his lack of integrity. Not yours."
"What should I do?" she whispered brokenly. "I can't go through this again."
"You need to hire a private investigator ASAP and catch him in the act."
"I don't know." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, refusing to meet my gaze. "What if I'm wrong?"
"There's only one way to find out."
"I don't know," she repeated.
"Will you have any respect for yourself if you do nothing? You did nothing with Daddy. You saw what Richard's affairs did to me. Don't let this beat you down. Be strong and take action."
"I-I just… "
I knew what that wavering meant, so I pounced on it before she could completely absolve the man. "If you don't want to hire a private investigator, don't. But I'm going to follow him."
She frowned and finally faced me. The tears were gone, at least. "Really, Naomi. Be serious."
"I'm dead serious." I was going to nail the bastard in more ways than one. Lie to my mom, would he? Cheat on my mom, would he? He'd picked the wrong girls to screw with. Detective Delacroix. That was me.
My mom pressed her lips together and reached out with her free hand, skimming her fingertips over my jaw. Tenderness shone from her features. "I've always thought of myself as the strong one for what I survived, but it's you. You're the one with true strength. Look at you, ready to defend my honor."
I glanced down at the table surface, beading with rings of moisture from our cups. Her praise caused my chest to constrict. She was wrong, but her words pleased me nonetheless. "I'm trying," I said.
"No; not trying. You are strong."
If she kept it up, I was going to bawl like a baby. I clasped her hand in mine and gave a gentle squeeze.
"Jonathan expects you at the house tonight. Seven-thirty. He wants to counsel you on your relationship choices. Can you come?"
How ironic. Relationship counseling from a cheater. I didn't think I was ready to see the rotten creep without scratching the skin from his bones, but I'd do it. I'd use the opportunity to sneak around the house like a goddamn Scooby-Doo disciple and find clues.
"I'll be there," I said with a firm nod.
"I love you, sweetie." She kissed my cheek, stood and glided away.
I forced Mel and Kera to go with me to Jonathans "relationship therapy" session that night. After he was finished dispensing his advice, they were going to distract him while I searched the house. Thankfully, my fury had lessened and I felt in control enough not to attack the cheating bastard with a whip and blowtorch. I loved the man, but I still planned to castrate him.
Maybe I wouldn't have been so upset if not for the picture of Royce and Big-Boobed Gwen. Nah. I'd still be pissed. Cheating was cheating.
Mom greeted us at the door. She brightened when she spotted her nieces. "Mel, Kera! I'm so glad you came. It's been too long since I last saw you. How're you doing, girls?"
"Fine, Aunt Gloria. Just fine," they answered simultaneously, and hugged her.
"Come in, come in," my mom said. I followed behind Mel and Kera, but when I tried to move past my mom, she grabbed my arm and tugged me aside. "You look ready for war." She spoke behind her hand and didn't meet my eyes. "What are you planning?"
"It's better if you don't know." I kissed her cheek, savoring the fragrance of lilies, and sailed past her. "Where's Dr. Johnnie?"
"You know he hates when you call him that." Mom waved toward the back of the house. "He's waiting for you in the den."
We followed the trail of floral-scented candles. The den was spacious, well-lit and fairly bursting with elegant bird figurines of every color and breed. Jonathan collected them. If I were analyzing him, I'd say he collected them because he's a cheating bastard who thinks it's okay to trample over a woman's self-esteem and ruin her ability to trust for the rest of her life.
That, and perhaps he wishes he could fly.
My stepdad was sitting on a big, cushy recliner, smoking a pipe and reading a book. He had a thick head of silver hair and a neat, trimmed beard.
Over the years, this man had counseled me on everything from eating disorders to shopping addictions. My entire childhood had been spent digging into my inner core, learning why I behaved as I did.
Maybe that was why I was so screwed up.
A pretty woman in her mid-twenties occupied the room's only other recliner. She, too, was reading a book and didn't notice the new arrivals. I gave her a once-over and frowned. Red curls framed her round, pleasant face. Her brown eyes tilted upward and her lips were small and shaped like Betty Boop's. She wore a fitted pink T-shirt and red-striped pants.
Could this be Jonathan's new love interest? Was he screwing around with a woman less than half his age? My frown became a hot scowl. How dare he bring her into my mom's house? How dare he! He was probably trying to pass the redheaded Boop impersonator off as a "friend." I'd met a parade of Richard's friends, aka whores, tramps and sluts.
"Hello, Jonathan," I said, both words measured carefully. Cheating bastard. Rot in hell!
He glanced up from his book and smiled, completely unaware of the fact that I was planning his death in my head.
"Naomi. So good of you to come." He placed his pipe in the ashtray, smoke wafting around him like a misty cloud. "You'll be happy to know I've been studying primitive mating rituals, hoping to help you with your problem."
Mel snorted, and I had to pinch her arm to keep her from saying anything.
"What problem?" I asked.
He didn't answer. "I see you've brought the twins," he said, brightening. "Excellent. Excellent. I'm sure this will be beneficial for everyone."
"Who's your friend?" I motioned to the redhead with a tilt of my chin. I didn't mean to sound so rude, but my blood pressure had escalated several more points.
The woman in question stood and held out her hand to shake. "Hi, I'm Jennifer. Jonathan and Gloria's neighbor."
Neighbor… was that the word for "whoring tramp" nowadays? "So nice to meet you," I ground out. I didn't take her hand.
She blinked over at me, obviously startled by my seemingly unwarranted ambivalence. "Nice to meet you, as well."
"I'm Kera." Kera shot me a what's-wrong-with-you frown before reaching out and clasping Jennifer's hand in a friendly shake. "And this is my sister, Melody. Everyone calls her Mel."
"Jennifer is joining us for the session," Jonathan said. "I thought it would do her some good, too."
I just bet you did, I thought darkly.
Mel, Kera and I settled on the couch. My mom eased onto the armrest beside Jonathan. Jennifer began to reclaim her chair, but Jonathan said, "No, no, Jennifer. You sit beside Naomi."
I tensed, not wanting the tramp anywhere near me.
"I'm fine here," she said, casting a wary glance in my direction.
"To the couch." Jonathan pointed.
I scooted over to make room and Jennifer obligingly sat down. She smelled good, like roses and baby's breath. I made a mental note to hate that scent for the rest of my life, as well as to check Jonathan's laundry for any hint of roses.
"I can feel everyone's eagerness." Jonathan rubbed his hands together in a show of delight. He lived for this shit. "That's the first step toward recovery, you know."
What were we trying to recover from? Being related to cheating male whores?
Get a hold of the bitterness, Naomi. There'll be time, enough for that later. I pasted a fake smile on my face. In the past I'd always put up with these therapy sessions because they made Jonathan happy. He'd done his best to make me feel loved, so I'd done the same for him. Now, today, I only wanted it over.