The Man Ban - Nicola Marsh Page 0,9
had initially been relieved and had assumed her mom had withdrawn to nurse her own hurt. Besides, the last thing she needed while struggling with the diagnosis of an autoimmune disease and the long-term effects to her skin and self-esteem was her mother’s well-intentioned attention to detail with her appearance.
But as time passed and Lydia continued to become more insular, Harper had missed her mom’s advice, no matter how nitpicky it had seemed at the time.
“I must be flushed because my latte is too hot.” Harper blew on it. “But I need the caffeine hit.”
Lydia obviously didn’t buy her glib fib, but thankfully didn’t call her out on it. Besides, thinking about Manny shouldn’t make her blush. That kiss and its follow-up had been an anomaly, the practiced routine of a guy capable of getting any woman he wanted. But she didn’t want. Her body’s traitorous reaction to his kisses had been nothing more than visceral, courtesy of her man ban.
“So how are you, Mom? Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Harper didn’t mean to sound judgmental, but Lydia’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I’m fine. Keeping busy. Can’t complain.”
“Which tells me exactly nothing. Are you still consulting at the beauty salon? Going out with friends?” She hesitated a moment before adding, “Seeing anyone?”
Lydia flashed a tight smile before focusing on making a vertical incision down the middle of her sourdough toast slathered in avocado and feta. “I pop into the salon once a week if they ask me. And yes, I’ve been to the National Gallery for a new overseas artists’ exhibition, a concert at the Arts Center, and a high tea in the Dandenongs all in the last fortnight.”
“Great,” Harper said, making a mess while hacking at her toast, waiting for the all-important answer to her last question.
“As for dating, I’m not going to tell you because you’ll tell your father and then he’ll continue to bug me.” Lydia forked a perfectly proportioned piece of square toast into her mouth and chewed, effectively buying herself silence. “More than he is already.”
“We used to tell each other everything,” Harper said, sadness making her stomach churn and effectively ruining her appetite. “Most of my friends were envious of us being besties. Even Nishi, who’s super close with her mom, used to mention how close we were.”
“Are,” Lydia corrected, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. Not that she needed to. Her mom’s budge-proof coral lipstick remained intact, without a toast crumb in sight. “We are close, honey, but I’ve just been busy.”
Probably with a man. Maybe her dad was right and her mom was dating someone? The sorrow in her gut congealed into a solid lump of misery because a small part of her, the part that still believed in the magic of rom-coms and meet-cutes and happily ever afters, hoped her parents might reunite.
“Too busy for your daughter?”
Lydia pinned her with a disapproving stare. “Don’t go all judgmental on me. We both lead independent lives, and mine happens to be more hectic than usual at the moment.”
Harper couldn’t hold her tongue a second longer. “Who is he, Mom?”
“There’s nobody,” Lydia muttered, but this time her mom was the one blushing.
“You owe it to Dad to tell him if you’re seeing someone, before he finds out from someone else.”
And she’d rather that person not be her. Her folks still had a lot of mutual friends who hadn’t taken sides after the separation. Then again, she could break the news gently.
“I don’t owe that man anything.” Lydia stabbed at her toast with particular viciousness. “We’re separated, remember?”
Harper rolled her eyes. “How could I forget? What with you gallivanting all over town and too busy to catch up, and Dad calling me constantly to find out what you’re up to, it’s pretty hard not to notice you’re estranged.”
Apart from her hidden romantic, what had her holding out hope was the time factor. More than a year had passed since they’d separated, meaning her mom could file for divorce. But Lydia hadn’t, and the one time Harper had asked her about it her mom had a mini meltdown.
“I’m sorry for not being around a lot lately.” Lydia gave up the pretense of trying to eat and set her knife and fork together in the middle of the plate. “I’ll try to do better.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I get it.” Feeling rotten for sending her mom on a guilt trip, Harper reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “But for the record, I miss this.” She swallowed the