Second Chance Boyfriend

creepy.” Owen shakes his head, looking at Drew. “She said she was your mom?”
    Drew stiffens beside me. “She’s not. She’s married to my dad. My mom died when I was little.”
    “Wait a minute.” I disentangle myself from Drew and stand, going to Owen. “You met her? You talked to her?”
    “She was in the apartment when I got home,” Drew adds.
    “With Owen? Alone?” I’m stunned. What. The. Hell. “Who let her in?”
    “I did,” Owen admits sheepishly. “She was waiting outside when I got here. She said she was Drew’s mom and that she needed to see him so I let her in.”
    “Oh my God.” I’m reeling. “How long were you with her alone?”
    “I don’t know. Ten minutes?” Owen shrugs. “What’s the big deal? She’s weird, I’ll give her that. But it’s not like she did anything to me. You act like she’d want to feel me up or something.”
    I look at Drew. No way am I going to say anything to Owen about…that. “She’s a little mentally unstable at the moment. Everyone’s worried about her.” Ick. I can’t believe I just said that. I’m not worried about her. I wish she’d fall off the face of the earth and rot in hell forever.
    “I thought I heard you two fighting,” Owen said, shifting on his feet. He looks uncomfortable.
    “We don’t really like each other.” I circle my arm around Owen’s shoulders and lead him into the kitchen. I need to change the subject and quick. “I have good news. I found an apartment for us.”
    “Really?”
    He’s so excited as I tell him all the details, hyperaware of Drew sitting in the living room. Alone with his thoughts. I’m torn. Excited to find my own place for Owen and me. Sad to leave Drew. I need this independence. But I need Drew as well.
    He needs me—now more than ever. I hope I can be enough for him.
    I hope we can be enough for each other.

 
     
    Chapter Nineteen
     
     
    The truth is rarely pure and never simple. – Oscar Wilde
     
    Adele
     
    I’m sick and tired of feeling guilty for the things I’ve done. I can’t help who I fall in love with. Why is it such a crime, falling in love? My husband neglected me for years. His son reminds me so much of him…only better. Younger. More vibrant. Sweet and eager to please.
    At first it was all for fun. When your husband loses interest in her sexually, a woman starts to feel less than. Ignored. Alone. I started flirting with Drew and he responded. Oh, maybe he was a little uncomfortable at first but the more we talked, the more time we spent together, the more he liked it.
    The more he liked me.
    Now he hates me. I don’t know where it all went wrong. I don’t understand his total disgust for me. I wish I could change it. I wish I could make him see I only want the very best for him. He has so much potential. He’ll be a star someday. A shiny bright star for a brief moment, I held in my hands.
    Only he slipped away and has no plans on ever coming back. The disappointment that floods me every time I think of him is so overwhelming, I can’t dwell on it for long.
    So I don’t.
    I’ve had affairs. Brief, meaningless dalliances with beautiful young men who make me feel good for a little while. Jonah the golf pro is my latest indulgence, and while he’s magnificent in bed and eagerly attentive, he’s also young and foolish and enjoys bragging to his friends that he’s banging an older woman. They call me a cougar.
    So crude, these boys are. Not my Drew. Scratch that—my Andrew. I’m the only one who calls him that. The only one who’s allowed.
    I drive around the backwater little town he lives in while he goes to college, getting lost on all the one-way streets while I try to find a nice hotel. The campus is nice, the downtown area eclectic, with lots of cute shops and restaurants. Other than that, the town is an absolute shit hole. If he remains here with that stupid, useless girl, he will go nowhere.
    Thinking of her makes me want to vomit. I can’t believe she attacked me. My head still hurts where she literally ripped the hair out of my scalp. The way she looked at me, the words she said. She hates me.
    That’s fine. I hate her too. She’s turned my beautiful boy completely against me, and the idea of her having sex with him makes me want to tear her apart.
    Andrew is mine. He belongs to me.
    I finally find a hotel and check in, handing over my husband’s credit card. The price doesn’t matter. Price never matters. Andy hasn’t cut off my credit