Sunset In Central Park by Sarah Morgan

with details. They were scarred into her brain.
    Would she have had fewer issues if her mother hadn’t been so free with the details?
    “How I ever raised such a prude I will never know. You need to loosen up. People say it’s impossible to meet a man in Manhattan, but I say they’re looking in the wrong place.”
    “Mom—”
    “Use it or lose it.
Who was it who said that? I can’t remember.” Gina Cole frowned, until she remembered that frowning was bad for her and quickly smoothed her forehead with her fingers. “If you need money or a place to stay—”
    “I don’t. I make my own money and I have my own place.”
    And she had her own issues, personal to her.
    Thanks, Mom.
    “Of course you do! Owned by Paige’s handsome brother.” Gina winked and stepped closer to Frankie. “Now
that’s
a man with brains, looks and money. Matt is that irresistible combination of smart and sexy. I read a feature on him the other day. He was wearing a tool belt and making a seat out of a log. Those
abs.
I swear I—”
    “Please, Mom!”
    “Please what? Oh, don’t worry about Dev. He’s not the jealous type.”
    Shame spread over her like a rash, not least because she’d had the same thoughts herself and the idea of having anything in common with her mother was horrifying. And mingled in with the shame was anger that her mother couldcontaminate a relationship that was precious to her. What if she said something similar to Matt? Frankie would die. It had been the same growing up. The embarrassment and shame had clung to her like a cloak, visible to everyone who looked.
Like mother, like daughter.
    “We have to go. We’re working.”
    “So you got another job?”
    “That’s right. And I need to do it right now. Have a good day, Mom.” Frankie started to walk away, nausea churning in her stomach.
    “Wait! When are you going to invite us around? We’re family, Frankie.”
    Frankie paused, wishing the burning in her gut would ease and trying not to imagine the horror of her mother bumping into Matt. What if she said something embarrassing? Or worse. What if she flirted?
    This was the reality of family and it wasn’t the cozy, comforting thing Eva fantasized about. It was like opening a bag expecting to find sugar, only to discover that someone had substituted salt.
    “I have a lot going on right now.”
    “It’s been ages. And how is dear, sweet Eva? Still missing her grandmother? We should go out together one night. All the girls together. It would be fun. Call me to arrange it and for goodness’ sake throw away those hideous glasses and get yourself contacts. No man is going to want to sleep with you in those. See you soon!” She walked away and Frankie sagged against the wall.
    “What is
wrong
with her? She invented inappropriate. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
    “What are you sorry for?”
    “All of it. For her tactless remarks about your health, forspouting the lurid details of her sex life around the flower market and for saying those things about Matt. I want to die, but then she’d take charge of my body and do something unspeakable with it.”
    “You don’t have to apologize.” Paige slid her arm through her friend’s. “You’re not responsible for your mother.”
    “I feel responsible.”
    “Why? None of it is your fault.”
    Wasn’t it? Frankie felt the familiar gnawing of guilt in the pit of her stomach. The truth was she felt responsible and always had.
    When it had first happened she’d discovered that guilt could be so big it could swallow a person whole. She’d been paralyzed by indecision, not knowing what to do for the best. The only thing she’d been sure of was that she didn’t want to inflict her problems on anyone else.
    Gradually, the guilt had faded, like a terrible wound that eventually heals but never quite goes away.
    She went weeks, months even, when she never thought about it. And when she did think about it, usually in the dark hours of the night, she