All the other moments on the timeline of my life have fluctuated somewhere between a priority that needs to be dealt with or a hindrance that needs to be dealt with. I’m curious how she sees me now.
“There’s that cozy parlor in the B and B that does afternoon tea. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Sure,” I say, not in the mood or mindset to argue. “Let me just grab my coat.”
“Perfect. Maxim already left. I’ll call us a RideShare,” she says.
It’s not until I’m halfway down the steps that I realize what that means…but it’s too late.
***
The awkward in this car could be cut through with a knife.
I vacillated at the passengers’ side between the front seat next to Hector and the back seat next to Mom. I decided the safe choice was the back seat since that’s what Mom would expect of me, but when I try to catch Hector’s eyes in the rearview mirror, he either won’t meet mine or he hasn’t noticed.
Never has our disparity been more pronounced.
“How serendipitous that you’re staying with my parents, Hector. Thank you for the ride. I do appreciate it,” Mom says, making herself more comfortable than necessary for such a short ride. We’re only going down the hill and into Havensmith Hollow.
“When duty calls,” he says. There’s a clipped rhythm to his words. I bite my lip.
“How are you two getting along?” Mom asks. “I know my Matthew can be a bit of a handful.”
“We’re getting on all right. We’ve been planning the gala together, so we’ve been seeing a lot of one another,” he says. I blush, thinking back on last night and just how much of him I got to see. I’m still craving more, even though thoughts of satiating that craving are the last ones I need right now.
“Matthew, you didn’t tell me you were collaborating. That’s wonderful. Back home, he refuses help with any of his lavish parties. Aside from the hired help, that is. If there were something above type A, that’s Matthew. He gets that from me,” she says, as if this were a point of unadulterated pride.
“I didn’t tell you a lot of things,” I mutter under my breath.
Before she can ask for an explanation, we pull up outside of Rosalie’s inn.
Mom makes a big show of tipping Hector and gives him a five-star rating on the app before leading the charge inside. I mouth a thank-you to him. He swipes a don’t-worry-about-it hand through the air, but his mouth doesn’t tip up into a perfect crescent moon. Instead, it stays stern like it was on that first day, and a scared feeling rushes through me.
Last night, I could tell he was on the verge of asking what will happen when I return to New York. How sturdy we are. Whether I’ll do what Natalia did. I wanted to reassure him. I wanted to stroke his hair and tell him this good thingcouldlast. But I didn’t want to disrupt the moment. Speak a possible false reality into existence.
Has Mom’s abrupt appearance scared him now too?
Should I tell her the truth about him?It’s practically all I keep asking myself as Rosalie escorts us into the reading room where lacquered tables sit picturesquely up against rows and rows of weathered books, probably from Grandma’s store. The bindings are arranged by color and the bookends are small busts of literary authors.
“Back so soon, huh, Mr. Prince?” Rosalie asks, a shady note to her voice.
“So soon?” Mom asks.
“It’s a long story,” I huff.
There’s only one other couple in here, two elderly gentlemen wearing newsboy caps and worn-out loafers. They don’t look at each other over their unfurled newspapers as they nurse their hot tea with shaky hands.
Rosalie places the extensive tea list down before us, along with a pair of flowery saucers.
Mom wants the deluxe afternoon tea, which comes with champagne, naturally, and since she’s the one who traveled all morning, I don’t protest that it’s not even one in the afternoon.
We settle on a pot of the Christmas blend to share. My stomach rumbles to remind me I haven’t eaten anything. This impending conversation is seriously testing my appetite, an unfortunate symptom of my anxiety.
“What are you doing here?” I finally ask.
“I’m going to be in town through the gala. Had to see your handiwork for myself. I’m staying in the suite here,” she says. Of course she could swing the suite at the last minute while I was on my hands and knees begging for a cot in the back garden. “I think it’s best to be away from the city and the chaos for a while. To catch up with everyone.”
“What about all the meetings and the parties and the musical?” I ask.
