“Of course I do.”
“Mom told me how you kicked her out when she visited you.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not how it went at all,” I tell my sister, who’s always been a younger version of my mother. They’re both as cold as a block of ice and as subtle in their judgment as brick to the forehead.
“It’s been months, Ivy,” Rose continues. “You’ve been in Los Angeles long enough. We know it’s probably not working out for you. Mom said it looked like you were on the verge of another one of your panic attacks when you threw her out.
“It’s time to return home before you make another public spectacle of yourself and embarrass the family once again. You know Dad is in the running for being named president at the university?—”
“Rose, I’m busy right now.” If I don’t cut her off, she’ll just keep going on about all of the ways I owe it to the family not to embarrass them.
The lump that’s already lodged in my throat makes it difficult to speak. Knowing my mother saw my panic attack and stillchooses to treat it like it’s my own personal failing instead of something beyond my control is telling.
“W-Well,” she uncharacteristically stutters, “our parents. They are worried about you.”
“Yeah, Mom showed how concerned she is about me when she thought I was having a panic attack and instead of trying to comfort or be there for me, she goes home and uses it as a smear campaign to prove to you that I’m in L.A. embarrassing the family.”
“That’s not what?—”
“That’s exactly how it is,” I counter. “I’m going back to dinner with my friends. And the next time you call me with this snide attitude, I will block your number.”
My voice comes out stronger than I feel.
“Enjoy your evening.”
Though my breathing remains a little shaky, a sense of relief overcomes me. This is the first time I’ve spoken up for myself to my sister.
Boundaries.
The term Dr. King taught me. She’s the first person who ever told me it was okay to set, and most importantly, stick to my boundaries with my family members.
It’s starting to feel like I’m finally getting the hang of the sticking to my boundaries part.
“Sorry about that,” I say as I approach the table. “Rose was on her typical …” I trail off when Mya and Ari both look up from their phones with a stark look in their eyes.
“What happened?”
Mya’s the first one to turn her phone to face me.
On the screen reads a headline in big, bold letters:It’s True: Former couple Andreas Knight and Amber Jones are back on!
CHAPTER 33
Andreas
“Then how the hell did they get those pictures?” I demand from my manager. I’m on a call with Stan and my PR rep, Rachel, on speaker.
Ever since that damn blog post came out two days ago about me and Amber fucking Jones, I’ve demanded answers from my team on how this bullshit got released.
My team has already had the piece removed from the popular celebrity blog, but I’m still pissed.
“Andreas, you know how this thing works,” Rachel says. “Most of these blogs don’t ask or need proof to write what they want.”
“I’ll sue them out of business,” I say, before peering over my shoulder at my closed bedroom door.
“Now, Andreas, let’s not be too hasty,” Stan intervenes. “While this isn’t what you wanted, we can spin this to our advantage. What if?—”
“How many fucking times do I have to tell you I’mnotdoing one of those publicity relationship contracts. I am not going to repeat myself on this.”
