Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, then cups my cheek with a sad smile. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately about how quickly you’re growing up. Everyone’s kids are getting married.”
I nudge her shoulder. “Well, not everyone, just Eli and Dutton. And, to be honest, they’re probably the bad eggs we should’ve been worried about, so it’s a relief, right?”
She laughs, hand to heart. I love my mom’s laugh. I love her voice. I love everything about her. “Don’t worry, I’m not getting married anytime soon,” I assure her.
“You might as well be married to your job. You’re as bad as me and your father.” She smiles. “I just want to make sure you’re happy. That we haven’t pushed you too much. Maybe we should organize a family trip. It’s been a while.”
I’m shocked, wondering where this has come from, and I press a kiss to her hand. Guilt immediately floods me. Is she feeling disconnected because of the lies I’ve been piling on? Or is she anticipating me leaving the nest? Is it time for that? Am I ready? Is that what she’s picking up on?
My mother chuckles. “I can always tell when you’re thinking.” She flicks my forehead lightly. “I just really want to make sure you’re okay. You seem busier than usual. I hardly see you, and I miss you, that’s all.”
She brings me in for a hug, and I sigh. It’s nice. I’ve been so busy and preoccupied with my own lies that I didn’t even notice how much distance, literally and figuratively, our schedules have put between us.
I feel an unfamiliar sense of courage building inside me as I look around the room with her. Maybe it is time for a change. Maybe I can’t always come back to this house. Maybe I need to stop arguing with my father that I’m not a child and show him that I’m an adult.
Something is changing, and I’m not entirely sure I like it. But it feels like something that’s due to run its natural course.
Fuck it.
“Would it just be you coming tonight?” I ask. Her eyes brighten, and she smiles with a quick nod.
“Okay. I just don’t want Dad terrorizing everyone into purchasing all my pieces again.”
She laughs. “Are you sure, sweetie?”
“Yes.” I need to stop worrying about what people will think about my parents. Who gives a fuck if they think I bought my way? I know the truth, and it’s a beautiful thing to have my family’s support when not everyone has the same luxury. But I’ve also had my reservations because I know this is the only side of me they’ll approve of.
“I have a few things to do before I arrive at the event, but I’ll see you there?” I ask, ignoring the call from my agent. I know if I don’t call her back after the second call, though, she’ll find me. She always does… in a creepy, stalker kind of way.
“Yes. What would you like me to wear?” she asks excitedly.
I can’t help but smile. I really did luck out having parents who have given me the world. And I feel so guilty that they ended up with a defective child, which is part of the reason why I won’t tell them my secrets.
Some lies are nicer to swallow.
“You look good in anything, Mom,” I tell her, then kiss her cheek.
I have to go back to my studio to collect some last-minute things before I head to the event. She walks me out and kisses my cheek as I get in the car, and she tells me how excited she is to come. It’s nice to know she’ll be there. It’s been almost two years since I let her come to an event, and for once, maybe I won’t be so uncomfortable being a spot of color in an otherwise dull and colorless crowd.
Kylie is the first person I see when I walk through the doors, and her expression conveys her horror at my dress. Did she really think I was going to take her advice on what to wear? Absolutely fucking not.
She saunters up to me, always enjoying the fact that she’s about half a foot taller than me, so she looks down her nose at me. “You look the same as you did at the last event,” she sneers and flicks her hair over her shoulder. She has on a black dress—again—but this time, her hair is down. It’s not quite as long as mine, but it’s long enough that it covers her shoulder blades.
“And you look as beautiful as always,” I say sweetly. She hates it when I’m nice to her because she’s only nice to me when others are around. I kill her with kindness because it pisses her off.
“Just don’t embarrass me; there’s someone here who I admire,” she warns.