rest of my life with. She just wanted her name to be front and center in the society column.”
“Is that really a thing?”
“Down here it is. We both had a lot of pressure on us, Brooklyn more so than me. I suppose I’m partly to blame for that. She’d hoped for a long engagement, but instead of listening to her, I tried to keep the peace between my mother and Brooklyn. So we’d set a date for only a few months after we’d gotten engaged, thanks to my mother’s insistence. She took complete control, even going so far as to pre-approve dresses for Brooklyn to try on at the local bridal shop, instead of giving her free rein to choose whatever style she wanted. I was so busy with work that I didn’t even realize everything that had been going on.”
He turns his urgent eyes on mine. “I’m not blaming what happened on my mother. Even if she hadn’t meddled, things would have eventually ended. I played a huge part in our ultimate demise. I was always working. Never made Brooklyn a priority, although I kept promising I would. I never carried through on that promise, though, so I can’t blame her for walking away. I told her I loved her all the time, yet I failed to actually show her I did, not like she needed. I was so used to people equating love with material things, I didn’t realize all she wanted was my presence. But after my mother called her a slut and a whore in front of all her uppity friends in an effort to save face—”
“She didn’t,” I gasp, covering my mouth. This woman sounds like an absolute nightmare. No wonder Julia steers clear of her. I’d do the same if she were my mother.
“She did. I’ve always been very non-confrontational. Not a pushover,” he clarifies. “If I see something wrong, I won’t roll over and take it, so to speak. It’s probably from having to play the mediator between my mother and Julia for years. I just want everyone to get along. But when I heard my mother call the woman I loved such horrible names, I lost it. Chewed her out for all her friends to witness. Once I got Brooklyn out of there, of course. And the worst part?”
“There’s something even worse than her calling the woman you were going to marry a whore?”
“Well, worse for her.” He smirks, a devilish glint in his eyes. “She’d invited a photographer from the society column. Let’s just say he captured a rather unflattering picture of my mother as I gave her a piece of my mind. She’d made the front page of the society magazine after all.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Wow.”
“I didn’t plan it that way. I’m not that vindictive. But I like to think karma finally paid her a visit.”
“I’d say.”
I don’t know why this story touches me like it does. Everyone has a monster-in-law story. I can only imagine that Mrs. Bradford has very high standards for her son, her baby boy, ones no woman will ever live up to, at least in her eyes. But the knowledge that Wes has no problem standing up for people he cares about, even to the woman who gave him life, endears another part of my heart to him.
“So that’s the short of it. I still talk to her. We’re not at each other’s throats like Julia and her tend to be. But I no longer try to keep the peace. No longer bite my tongue when she’s acting unreasonable.” He laughs under his breath. “Like the last time I saw her earlier in the summer. I was at a golf tournament the company put on, and she was trying to get me to ask out one of her friend’s daughters because, and I quote, ‘she has good breeding’.”
“Breeding?” I snort a laugh. “What was she? A fucking horse?”
“To some of these people, that’s what picking a wife is. Marry a respectable woman who will bring some sort of clout to the family, regardless of how incompatible you are, then find…satisfaction elsewhere.”
“You mean cheat?”
He places his finger over his mouth. “You didn’t hear it from me.”
“Of course not.” I heave a sigh, no longer paying attention to any of the wares being sold, too consumed by Wes and learning more about his world. “I take it that’s not what you want.”
“What?”
“Good breeding.” I wave my hand. “For lack of a better word.”