Chapter 76 The Comfort of Home

Chapter 76 The Comfort of Home
I muster every ounce of brightness I can find and channel it into my smile when my mother opens the door.
“Hey, Mum,” I chirp, trying to sound lighter than I feel.
Her pretty, heart-shaped face breaks into a wide smile, full of surprise. “Scarlett, honey!”
She steps back, waving me inside. “Come right in, baby.”

I walk into her new apartment, the comforting scent of strawberry and fresh linen wrapping around me.
It's the smell of home—the smell of safety.
After the paparazzi frenzy following the leak, we’d had to move her to a safer building with better security. Thankfully, the worst of the chaos has finally died down.
“Baby, come here.” She pulls me into one of her tight, motherly hugs.
I close my eyes and sink into it, letting her warmth chase away some of the heaviness I’ve been carrying for weeks.

“I was just about to start baking some cookies and maybe a cake,” she says after pulling back, already heading toward the kitchen. “There’s this lovely women’s club I joined. They’re all so nice and welcoming.”
I follow her, already feeling better.
I should've visited before now.
“How are you doing, honey?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder as she pulls ingredients from the cupboard. “I saw a gossip magazine mentioning that the man who leaked those pictures has been caught and charged in court.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, leaning against the counter. “Turns out it was a good friend of mine.”
Mum gasps, hand flying to her chest. “No way.
“A work buddy, actually.”
“Oh, sweetheart… I’m so sorry. That must’ve hurt terribly.”
“It did,” I mutter again, staring down at the counter.
My mother watches me with a sympathetic look. Then she picks up her apron and ties it around her waist.

“At least now he or she's paying for it. Right?”
“Right.”
Mum shakes her head. “I'm really sorry, baby. At least the worst is over.”
No, it's not. I want to say.
“So, how’s that boyfriend of yours doing?” she asks, happily, reaching for a small bag of flour and pouring it into a bowl. “Lawrence.”

I play with the edge of a dish towel on the counter and don't answer.
The soft sound of flour pouring into the bowl stops.
"Scarlett?”
When I look up, my mother is watching me closely, the bag of flour now sitting close by.
Concern has replaced the smile on her face. "What happened?"
Letting out a slow breath, I reach for the spare apron hanging on a hook.

"I found out Lawrence had been hiding some things from me."
She pales. “He didn't cheat, did he? Please tell me he wasn't stupid enough to cheat on you.”
“No, Mum. He didn't cheat.”
She heaved a sigh of relief.
I tie the apron around my waist before taking the bag of flour from her.
“So what did he do?” She asks.

I continue measuring the flour into the bowl as I tell her the full story.
"We've been taking some space." I continue.
Her expression softens. "Oh, honey. That couldn't have been easy."
She touched my back. “Why didn't you tell me sooner?”
I shrug. “I didn't want to bother you.”
The bowl of four, now mixed with the essentials for a cookie batter, remains on the counter. “You were so happy for me that I finally found the right guy after years of being single and I was…” My voice cracks. “...I was embarrassed to tell you.”

My mum's voice softens further. “Babe, come on. You should never feel that way with me. I'm your mother.” She says soothingly. “How long has it been?"
I sniff. "Twenty days."
Even saying it out loud makes my chest ache.
Twenty days.
It feels so much longer.
"Twenty days," my mother repeats softly. She reaches across the counter and gives my hand a soft squeeze. "No wonder you've looked so tired every time we've video-called."
I lower my eyes and nod.
“You've been carrying all of this on your own."
"Not anymore," I whisper, giving her a small, wistful smile.
She smiles back.
"Come on," she says, clapping her hands together. "Let's take your mind off things for a while."
She gestures toward the bowl of dough between us. "We have cookies to make."
I chuckle. "Yes, ma'am."

Soon we're rolling out the dough, dusting the countertop with flour before pressing cookie cutters into it.
The simple rhythm of it helps.
It gives my mind something else to focus on besides Lawrence.
I haven't baked in a long time. And that's one of the many reasons I love coming here.
Whenever I visit, there's always something waiting for me, whether it's a pie fresh out of the oven or the smell of cake drifting through the apartment.
I'm sure there are other appetizing pastries somewhere in the fridge.
My mother has always known how to make a house feel like home.

"Scarlett", she begins, trying to sound casual. "I met someone at one of the events the women's club hosted last month."
I pause mid-cut, holding the cookie cutter over the dough.
"Oh? Okay."
"He's a widower." She continues, her smile softening. "Very kind."
I slowly set the cookie cutter down and turn to look at her, one eyebrow arching curiously.
"We've been talking ever since."
A grin immediately spreads across my face. "Mum!"
She blinks innocently. "What?"

"Are you seriously holding out on me?"
A laugh bubbles out of her as her cheeks turn pink. "I'm not holding out on you; it's nothing serious," she insists. "We've only had a few conversations."
"Mhm."
"And maybe a couple of coffees."
My grin widens. "I knew it."
"Oh, hush." She laughs again, shaking her head.
"He just makes me laugh, Scarlett."
The way she says it is so quiet. And honest.

I haven't seen that look on her face in a very long time.
“I'm happy for you, Mum,” I say softly.
“Thanks, honeybun.”
I narrow my eyes. "So that's why you've been wearing new lipstick every time I call."
Her mouth falls open. "I wear lipstick all the time."
"No, you've been wearing dating lipstick."
"There is no such thing."
"There is!”
We laugh and talk about other things until we're done cutting the cookies, sliding the first tray into the oven.

A moment of silence settles.
“So,” Mum says softly, wiping her hands on her apron. “What are you going to do about Lawrence?”
I stare at the shut oven for a long moment.
“You still love him.” She states. “I can see it all over you, baby.”
“Yeah,” I admit quietly. “Even after everything.”
“Does he love you?”
I smile without meaning to. "More than anyone ever has.”

She nods. “I believe so too. I saw it the day you brought him here," she says. "In the way he looked at you. And I saw it again after those photographs were leaked."
She pauses. "He wasn't just trying to protect you." Her eyes soften.
"He was trying to protect me too because I matter to you."
I smile faintly. “He can be a lot, Mum,” I say. “He can be intense and controlling and sometimes terrifying… but he’s also patient with me,” I say softly, thinking back to him sitting beside my bed.
Replacing the hot-water bottle.
Respecting the space I'd asked for by not kissing me, even when every part of him wanted to.