“Dismissive. Self-centered. Overbearing. Superficial. Guilt-trippy— that’s not a word, but it should be.”
A shrug is the best response I have. Nothing she’s said is wrong, but that’s still my mom.
“Don’t you ever get tired of it, Bel?” she asks, not unkindly.
“Tired of what?”
“Giving endless love and forgiveness to someone who is incapable of doing the same for you?”
“That’s not fair,” I argue, “She’s done a lot for me.”
“And in return, she expects you to live your whole life for her approval. Her love is transactional, and yours isn’t. You love her despite her flaws, and she only loves you when you pretend you have none.”
Thinking of my mother this way feels like a betrayal, like I’m doing something wrong by daring to think negatively about the person who raised me.
“She is who she is, Isla,” I shrug again, “There’s no changing her.”
She mhmm’s, knowing her parents are the exact same. Some people just get too comfortable in who they are and refuse to grow, even for the benefit of those they supposedly love.
A few more minutes of comfortable—if slightly somber— silence pass as we stand waiting, until Isla suddenly breaks it and I’m in the unfortunate position of having to lie to her again, “What does Caspian do, anyway?”
Shit. “Oh, he uhh models. For book covers,” I sputter out.
“That totally tracks. Have you asked about a sibling for me yet?” she wags her brows.
“Isla Parker! You horndog, you,” I playfully slap her arm before adding, “I get the impression he doesn’t have much family. And if he does, they’re not in touch.” He hasn’t said anything about how demons spawn, but I think I’d know if he had one.
Her knowing nod and slightly glossy eyes tell me the conversation is about to take a turn for the worst if we don’t shut it down. The topic of NC family is basically off-limits unless we want more tears.
Her knowing nod and slightly glossy eyes tell me the conversation is about to take a turn for the worst if we don’t shut it down. The topic of family is basically off-limits unless we want more tears.
“I’m sure he has lots of friends that model with him though. You know guys like that are always hot people magnets.” I suggest.
“Ooh, you’re probably right! You’ll have to ask him once you guys have been seeing each other a bit longer. It might scare him off if you ask about other hotties too early in the relationship.”
Relationship?That’s not what this is. It’s just… a weird situation where we’re stuck together, and he’s just so fucking hot, and I’m—
“Hey babe!” There he is, looking so handsome in his new clothes and hair. My god, it’s really unfair how fine he is. “Hey Isla, how are you faring today?”
She narrows her eyes at me in suspicion, presumably at Caspian’s quick arrival, before responding, “I’m good, and yourself?”
“Wonderful, thank you.” He turns his brilliant smile on me, “And you, little warrior? Are you well?”
“I’m great. We just had lunch and walked around town.” His arm slips around my shoulder, and I nearly combust on the spot. He shouldnotbe doing… PDA stuff. I’ll never fucking hear the end of it.
We stand awkwardly for just a moment as he toys with my hair, none of us ever being in this kind of situation before. Who talks first? Has being around other people (and demons) always been so hard? Or is it just this big dummy with his arm around me making my brain go haywire?
“Oh! There’s my ride!” I get a signature Isla hug, always just barely less than painful, and she turns to Caspian, “Get my girl home safely, Cas. Got it?”
“Yes, I’ll ensure her safety. Have a good night.”
“Bye-ee!” she shouts, climbing into the back of the car.
Caspian returns his gaze to me, a strange look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, curious why he seems so confused.
“It’s nothing. Probably just me reacclimatizing to the world. Let’s get home, we still have to prepare everything for our journey. And you need rest. Can you call one of those car services?”He hasn’t removed his arm from me.
