Irrefutable (The Apprehensive Duet Book 2) by Kimberly Bracco Page A

this far on my own. Accepting help from a professional who deals with people with fucked up problems all the time couldn’t make anything worse. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

 
    I LOOK AT my mother and even though I know she’s just trying to help, I want to scream!
    “Your riddles aren’t actually helping me, Mom,” I complain as we sit down for lunch. I glance around the room hoping something pops out of nowhere giving me some kind of clue what the hell Mom is trying to get at. “All they’re doing is leaving me more confused.”
    “They aren’t riddles, Jordan,” she says, her voice full of mirth as she fiddles with the stacked pearl bracelets on her wrist. “I’m just asking the abstract questions.”
    Mom’s eyes don’t leave mine, even as she takes a bite of her panini. It’s like she’s waiting for something to click for me, I just don’t know what.
    I spent all night in my childhood bedroom thinking about the question she asked about Quinn before heading to her room last night, and it still doesn’t make sense to me.
    Taking a big breath, I dig deep down for all the patience I have left. Last thing I want to do is snap at my mother. “Of course, when I close my eyes I see Quinn. Pretty sure that’s because I love her. Don’t you agree?”
    “I asked if when you closed your eyes and thought of the future , do you see Quinn?”
    For real? “What difference does that make, Mom?”
    “I’m not telling you I doubt you love Quinn. I believe you do. But do you see her, specifically as your wife, when you think of your future?”
    Huh?
    Nothing she says clears anything up for me. My brain feels like it’s about to explode, and Mom wants to talk me in circles. Why can’t she just come right out and say the words instead of beating around the bush?
    I give her an answer as best as I can. “I guess, I mean, Quinn’s the only woman I’ve ever thought of as my wife.”
    Mom’s lips turn up with a very warm smile as she nods. “That’s my point. You’ve only ever pictured this with Quinn. “
    “So? Why’s that wrong?”
    “It’s not wrong, honey,” she says. “But you’ve opened up to the idea of a life with someone. Just because it was Quinn that showed you the picture doesn’t mean she has to stand in it with you.”
    Another damn metaphor.
    “Jordan,” Mom continues, “do you know Quinn’s favorite color?”
    What the? “No. Why does that matter?”
    “What about her dreams outside of work?”
    “All she’s ever talked about was becoming successful enough to get away from her father.”
    “What about why she hates him so much?” Mom’s eyebrows pique as she asks. “Why is their relationship so strained?”
    “She doesn’t like talking about him, so I’ve never really asked.”
    I noticed the pattern and my heart starts to sink into my stomach.
    “I don’t really know her at all.”
    Mom’s head shakes in disagreement. “That’s not true. You know her, you care for her deeply, and I know you love her, but you don’t love her the way you think you do, sweetie. You didn’t have to work to get her to agree to marry you. It seems like everything was agreed upon like a business transaction.”
    That’s not entirely true either. “I did have to work for her. Her trust didn’t come easy. She hated me at first.”
    “You have her trust when it comes to work and this mess you’re dealing with, but she never gave you the trust that comes with spending your entire life with someone. It’s not what she wants. I don’t even think it’s what you really want, either. Loving her doesn’t mean you have to be in love with her. One day you’ll meet someone, and when that time comes, this conversation will make much more sense.”
    My brain works quickly, trying to process what Mom’s trying to tell me. Seeing her point isn’t hard.
    I didn’t have to work at having a relationship with Quinn. Mom’s right. Quinn never trusted me with anything beyond this ordeal.