Testing My Husband Into Her Bed Chapter 2

I don't remember the Uber ride. I don't remember walking up the steps to my mother’s house.

My hands shook so badly I couldn't get the key into the lock. Before I could try a third time, the door clicked open.

My mother, Evelyn, stood there in her silk robe, her face etched with worry. "Summer? What are you doing here at this hour? You look like a ghost."

The moment I saw her, the wire I’d been walking on all night snapped. I fell into her arms, sobbing like a lost child. She was the only person left who felt like home.

Evelyn gasped, patting my back rhythmically. "What happened? Did you and Bradley have a fight? Honey, it can’t be that bad."

I couldn't catch my breath. The words came out in jagged, broken shards.

"Mom... Bradley... he’s with Victoria. At a hotel."

The hand on my back stopped moving.

Evelyn gripped my shoulders and pulled me back, her expression hardening into something I didn't recognize. "Summer, think about what you’re saying. What do you mean, Bradley and Victoria?"

I looked at her, desperate for her to hold me again, to tell me she’d handle it. I told her everything. Every sordid detail of what I saw in that hallway.

Evelyn’s brow furrowed. But her first reaction wasn't anger at them. It wasn't comfort for me. It was a sharp, cold interrogation.

"Are you sure? Maybe you saw it wrong. Maybe it was a misunderstanding."

Those words hurt worse than the hotel air.

"A misunderstanding? Mom, I saw them with my own eyes. I was there." I fumbled for my phone, my hands still trembling. "I recorded it. Look!"

Evelyn flinched as if the phone were a hot coal. She turned her head away, covering her eyes.

"I won't look at that!" her voice rose, sharp and scolding. "Summer! How could you even think such things about Victoria?"

"She’s been my best friend for thirty years! I know her better than I know myself. She treats you like her own daughter! She would never do something so disgusting."

I stood there, arm extended, phone in hand. My own mother was looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and disgust—not for the cheaters, but for me.

She started listing Victoria’s virtues like a litany. "She stayed up all night with you when you were sick as a baby. She gave you the biggest check at your wedding. She’s the one who introduced you to Bradley! Why would she destroy your marriage?"

"You’re just confused. You must have seen someone else."

I felt the blood in my veins turn to slush. Thirty years of being her daughter didn't stand a chance against thirty years of "sisterhood." My pain was just "immaturity" to her. My trauma was a "slander" against her friend.

She didn't even look at me again. She picked up her own phone and dialed Victoria’s number.

The second the call connected, Evelyn’s voice softened into a coo of concern. "Victoria? Oh, did I wake you? I’m so sorry, but Summer just got here and she’s saying the most awful things..."

I watched my mother’s face shift from confusion to a slow, nodding realization, and finally, to a burning anger directed at me.

She hung up and looked at me like I was a stranger who had just insulted her honor.

"I’ve heard enough," she snapped. "Victoria told me everything. She was at that hotel for a business meeting with a client. She happened to see Bradley there—he was drunk, Summer. She was just helping him to his room because she’s a decent person. And you? You burst in and started screaming at her. She’s been crying on the phone, she’s so hurt!"

Evelyn pointed a finger at my face, her voice shaking with indignation. "Summer, you are going to call her right now and apologize."

Apologize?

To the woman who had just dismantled my life? To the woman who was currently gaslighting my mother?

A sense of profound absurdity washed over me. I looked at this woman—my mother—who was so blinded by a toxic friendship that she was willing to sacrifice her own child.

I realized then that you can’t wake someone who is pretending to be asleep.

We screamed at each other. I used words I’d never used with her, and she looked at me with a coldness that froze my heart solid.

"I am so disappointed in you," she said. It was the last thing she told me before I walked out.

I grabbed my bag and ran into the night. I didn't cry this time. I was numb.

True loneliness isn't being alone. It’s realizing that the person you trusted most as your backup just stabbed you in the back.