Sabrina's POV

I'VE KNOWN that Gemma's been back in town. How come she didn't come see me? Well, I know that she's been avoiding me for the past twenty years.

I'm happy that I noticed her at the fair. Even after all this time, she still seems nervous around me. How's that possible? I wish she didn't butcher her hair like that though. She's always had beautiful, long hair.

Ever since she left this town, she's changed a lot about herself.

It's strange not to see her with a crop top and ripped jeans. She'd always show off her body, now she's become modest it seems.

My phone begins to ring, and my heart leaps. Is it Gemma? Looking at the caller's ID, I can't say that I'm not a bit disappointed.

"Mom, are you still coming over for dinner tonight?" It's Eleanor on the line. I almost forgot about our plans.

"Yeah. I'll leave in a few hours. Need me to pick anything up?"

"No, I've got everything covered. Jack's even helping me in the kitchen."

"Oh, really. Maybe I should pick up something for backup then—" I laugh.

"I'm keeping a watchful eye on him. Don't worry. I'll see you later."

"Okay, bye," I hang up and sigh. There's not much to do with myself these days. I'm a widow, and the mother of a grown man. It gets really lonely sometimes.

I've waited to be alone for so long, but I didn't realize that it would be like this.

Friends always seem to come and go. And men don't stick around for women my age anymore. As for women, I've only had a few flings over the years, including Gemma.

I can't find myself settling down with a woman. It's not the honorable thing to do, in my opinion. And what would people think?

As much as I would love to not care, I do. I'll be a grandmother someday, and can't allow myself to be in an unorthodox relationship.

I shower, get dressed and grab my purse. Before heading out the door, I look at myself in the mirror. I'm nowhere near what I once looked like. My skin's slowly becoming more and more elastic as the years wear on, not that I've ever been that pretty to begin with.

I think my ambition has always been the best thing about me. I'm sure it's the only thing that men are really attracted to when they date me. Or maybe I am pretty in their eyes. But I don't go off pretty. I'd like to think I have more depth than that.

Gemma lacked self-confidence when she was younger. Maybe that's why she's dated so many older women, at least that's what I heard. She's probably the one dating younger women now, since the tables have turned.

I get into my car, and reverse out of the driveway. I wonder if she's staying at her grandfather's house. I'm pretty sure I remember how to find it. But I won't go over there. I'll never come off as desperate to her.

I decide to stop at the convenient store, and pick up a nice bottle of wine. The kids only have shitty whiskey and beer. Jack picked up on some of his father's drinking habits. Thankfully, in a moderate manner.

I look at the woman beside me in the aisle. She smiles and says, "hey, I saw you yesterday."

I furrow my brows, "you did?"

"Yeah, at the fair," I admire her pretty face for a bit. She seems to be in her thirties. But she's gorgeous. Not that I'm all that into women. But I can take the time to appreciate beauty, "you were getting your face painted. And talking to Gemma."

"Oh, yeah," stalker alert, "are you a friend of hers?"

She wobbles her head side to side, "I guess we are. She's been staying at my bed and breakfast for a while now. I'm the reason why she agreed to volunteer yesterday."

Chatty, "good friends then," I grit my teeth. I bet Gemma's already tried to get in her pants.

"I assume the two of you are friends too?" She's coming off a bit nosy, "I'm Veronica, by the way."

She stretches her hand out, and I take it, only out of courtesy. I already don't like her much, even if she's cute.

"I'm Sabrina. I have to get going. But it was nice meeting you, I guess."

I walk away, and towards the cashier with a bottle of wine in my grasp. She seems a bit too interested in Gemma.

"SO MOM, we have something that we want to tell you," Jack says. I raise a brow, and take a drink from my glass.

"Are you pregnant?" I look at Eleanor. Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head.

"God, no," she almost yells. Like it would be the worse thing. I wouldn't mind having a grandchild or two. Just as long as I don't have to take care of them.

"Okay, what then?"

"When Jacks says we, he means him by the way. I'm not getting involved," Eleanor chugs down her glass of wine. They both seem nervous. What's the worst thing he could say?

I just hope that he didn't get some other girl knocked up. No, it can't be. Eleanor wouldn't be here if he did. Or would she?

She might be as stupid as I was.

He nudges her, and they both look at eachother, then back at me.

"I want it to come from me, before she ends up telling you," Jack says.

"Who?"

He scratches his jaw and sighs, "Gemma."

"What about her?" I look down at my plate, as though I'm disinterested in the topic.

"I, uh..."

Eleanor says, "he asked her some questions about your friendship," I sense the emphasis, and doubt it has anything to do with what I'm thinking of. Gemma wouldn't dare tell my son anything, especially not twenty years later.

"Why?" I narrow my eyes at him, "what's that all about?" My heart begins to race, but I need to keep it cool. He definitely doesn't know.

"I know that it's none of my business. But I've thought about your friendship for years. And it kind of all adds up."

"Jack, what the hell are you talking about?" My aggressive side is coming out. I'm nervous about what he's going to say. And I wonder what Gemma told him. They talked. What did they talk about? She probably told him I was an asshole. Typical, Gemma.

"I know that you two were in a relationship—fling, whatever you want to call it. I just know."

Okay, now I have to pretend.

"What? That's ridiculous, Jack. Why would you say something like that?"

"Don't act like it's the most preposterous thing. Can you be honest with me, for once in your damn life?"

"Don't talk to me like that!" I stand and slam my hand against the table. Fuck, that hurts. I just hope that I'm not over acting my disbelief.

"Mom, I'm not trying to upset you. I'm—"

"Not trying to upset me? Then why bring up this bullshit?" I grit my teeth, and sit back down. I raised this child for almost thirty years, just for him to go digging up my past. And, of course, I'm going to deny every last thing that he's accusing me of.

"What's so hard about telling the truth, mom? It's not like I care about who you date, as long as they're not an asshole like dad."

"Don't talk about your father like that," I lift a finger. I end up pouring myself another glass of wine and leaning back. Maybe I should just go, leave him to think this over, and hopefully, tomorrow he'll think all of this is stupid and apologize to me. Then we can never talk about it again.

"What? Like he was so damn great," I can see the frustration in his eyes. Why is it important to him for me to admit to anything? And why is he talking ill of the dead? I don't condone him ever talking bad about his father. It's for me to talk about, not him.

"I told him not to bring it up. I'm sorry, mom. But he has his mind set that something happened between you and her. It's crazy," Eleanor looks at him, and places her hand on his shoulder, "your mom's not a lesbian, Jack. Can we just move on from this now?" She then looks at me.

My teeth is grinding. I hope I don't chip a tooth, "let's just forget that we ever talked about this," it's technically not lying when I agree that I'm not a lesbian. I like men. I love men. And I sometimes like women. That's it. I don't need to reveal my dirty laundry to the world. Or to my very nosy son.

"Fine. I'm done eating. I'll call it a night," he gets up and heads to his room, without turning back.

Eleanor says, "I'm really sorry, mom. I know that was really uncomfortable."

"Yeah. I'm gonna go. But talk some more sense into him. I don't want him thinking about garbage like that."

"I will. You want me to pack you some leftovers?" I shake my head, "okay, I'll see you out then."

SITTING IN my car, my forehead against the steering wheel, I'm furious. How the hell did Jack find out? Did Gemma do this to fuck with me? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Without thinking it through, I find her number on instagram, and call her.

"Hello," she answers. I know that she'll hang up if I start yelling at her over the phone, so I muster up all my strength to be nice. I need to know what she told Jack.

"It's me. I want to talk. Can we meet somewhere?" My jaw's twitching from just hearing her voice. Ugh, I'm so angry.

"Uh, now?"

"Yes. It's important," she's probably biting down on her stupid bottom lip.

"Okay. I'll text you the address."

"Thanks," I hang up and look at my phone screen, waiting for her message.

When I get a notification, and look at the address, I plug my phone into my car, and head over there immediately.

IT'S THE BnB. Somehow, that makes me angrier. Maybe it's all the wine talking. But I'm going to give her a piece of my mind.

When she opens the door, and I notice her messy, blonde hair, I wonder what she's been up to. Probably screwing that chick.

"Are you going to invite me in?" I bet my tone isn't very welcoming. She steps aside, and I walk in.

"So, what's up?" She leads me into the living room. If I wasn't so angry, I'd be able to enjoy how pretty this place is, "Sabrina?"

"What did you tell my son?" I don't see anyone around, but I'm still making sure to keep my voice down.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't act dumb with me. I can't believe you would tell Jack about us! Why? Why now? Are you still hung up on me or something?"

She glares at me, and steps back, "don't you dare talk to me like that. Cause I can fucking defend myself."

"Right. Because I'm always the bad one. Well, you've always been a little bitch. And by the way, I'm not interested. Why can't you accept that I don't want to fucking be with you!" I clench my jaw, knowing that we're becoming loud.

"Wow," she claps her hands, "finally, I'm getting the truth about how you really feel about me. At least I know for sure that you really are a horrible person."

She runs her fingers through her hair, and steps further back.

I say, "stay away from me and my family. Don't you ever again fill my son's head with all that shit. It wasn't your place to tell him."

"Did you talk to Jack? Cause I lied right in his face when he bombarded me with questions about us. As much as I would have loved to be the one to tell him the truth, I didn't. Somehow, he figured it out."

"Fuck that. You think he'd just magically know that we were fucking around when he was a kid?"

"I don't know, Sabrina. Maybe you should talk to him, and stop accusing me with your bullshit," I start pacing the room. Is she lying? If she isn't, then how did Jack find out? "I left this town and you behind. All you seemed to do was make me miserable. You made me feel like shit. I doubted myself all these years, thinking that there was something wrong with me. Cause you never seemed like a bad person. It was just me, and how fucked up I was. But no, you're a conniving asshole. And no, Sabrina, I don't want you back. Sex with you wasn't even fucking good!"

"I'm always the asshole. You knew what you were getting yourself into. You knew I was married, you knew I was straight—"

"Really? If I remember correctly, you said I was turning you. I guess I was a gullible, little bitch after all. By the way, when we first met, I didn't know you were still married. You told me you were separated, remember?"

I rub my temples. I don't want to talk about this. I just want her to stay away from Jack, "it's all in the past. So fucking stay out of my life!"

"I didn't ask you to come here. I don't want to be a part of your life. I didn't respond to you all those times you messaged me. And I'm the one being accused of wanting you back? Maybe you should figure out what you fucking want. Cause you're the last woman on earth that I ever want to be with."

I respond, "I wanted to be your friend. Like I always have. But you always wanted more. It's not my fault that you can't control your feelings."

"Fuck you. Friends? You wanted someone to make you feel good about yourself. Someone to use just like your husband did with all those women."

"Well, fuck you, too."

Gemma looks down and sighs. She rubs the back of her neck, seemingly defeated, "and yes, back then, I wanted you. But you wanted me too. At least in the beginning—"

"Gemma," I begin to feel guilty. I know that I was at fault in some way. But she knew the situation I was in. Did she really expect me to leave my husband for her? A broke eighteen year old? I needed stability. It was the right thing to do for my son.

"You always talked about leaving him. Day after day. Week after week. I somehow believed you would. But months went by, going onto years, and I knew you loved him—you wanted to stay with him. Even though he cheated and cheated and treated you like shit. And I get that. I do. You even told me that I should see other people. But when I did, you were pissed. You wanted me all to yourself, but I couldn't have you. And somehow you still made me feel like I didn't deserve you. You played mind games with me. It hurt, Sabrina. It hurt alot. Even after I was finally over you, it still hurt. You can't toy with people's feelings like that."

I'm confused. Why is she blaming me for all of that? "Now, you're making stuff up."

"No, I'm not. You made me feel stupid. Nothing I said was right. You told me that I was too insecure, when you're the reason I was. And yes, these are my problems. And it's my own fault for letting what you did affect me so badly. But I'm good now. I've learned to love myself. I've learned to love life."

"I'm just going to go," this is a mistake. I should have never come here.

"Thanks for coming over. I've been keeping all that in for over twenty years," she lets out a heavy breath. I want to roll my eyes.

"I told you to move on so many times. I told you that I had nothing to offer you. But you wanted to stay. You said it was all worth it. Because I was worth it," I mumble.

"And every time I tried to, you somehow pulled me back in. I loved you. I would've done anything for you. But that is all in the past. I'm glad that I vented to you, even though you don't think I'm making any sense. Talk to your kid. He figured it out somehow, but it wasn't from me."

"Yeah, right," I walk to the door, "and for what it's worth, Gemma. I am sorry. I didn't realize that I hurt you that much."

She shrugs, "I don't hate you, Sabrina. I hate myself for letting it all happen. Things only hurt if you let it. But I'm a better person for the mistakes that I've made."

"Yeah," I inhale a deep breath, "he's dead by the way."

"I know. Jack told me. I'm sorry. I know you loved him."

I press my lips together, "yeah, not as much as you think," I open the door and leave, without turning back, because tears are sliding down my cheeks.

Am I really such an awful person? Am I just like him?

ALL OF those things that she said—they're all stuck in my head, repeating over and over again. I never realized how badly our relationship affected her. Am I really just like my husband—my dead husband?

That sickens me. I was so caught up with trying to make my marriage work, that I treated her like that? I'd accepted that my husband would have never been faithful. I somehow learned to live with it. And he, well, he was only okay with me sleeping with other women, especially if he could join in. If I remember correctly, only if he could join.

But Gemma wasn't interested in that. And I wasn't either. So our affair was, of course, a secret from him.

Thinking about it, that's fucked up. I should have never brought Gemma into my life. Now, I'm going to die knowing that I'm just as shitty as my worst nightmare.

I doubt that she went through as much crap with me as I went through with my husband. That doesn't relieve how badly I feel though. Why didn't she tell me before? Why did she stick around for so long? Did she really love me?

Tears stream down my cheeks. I really am an awful person.