A sharp laugh barked out of her. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“Like you? Pregnant at eighteen? Then again at nineteen.”
Another slap flew across my face. Hot tears bubbled in my eyes, but I stormed away from her, out the front door.
And now I’m fighting sleep. Or my body is. Mom can fuckright off. I forgave Luke to his face—and part of me knows I won’t hold a grudge, since it’s just not who I am—but another part of me is still hurt, thinking about him and Blair. And Nellie.
37
Charleigh
Sunlight pulses through the kitchen window. It’s late afternoon, and Charleigh is just home from racquetball, her veins fizzing with alcohol.
Alexander’s out on his land today, dove hunting; he said he was likely going to tent camp, spend the night. Which is fine with her. She needs a break from him, from all the sex, even though she loves it, is grateful for it. Is grateful that she’s not in a position like Kathleen, trying to use potions and whatnot to keep her husband by her side. How pathetic.
Through the window, she spies Nellie lounging on a chair in her red string bikini, flicking throughSeventeenmagazine. She’s wearing heart-shaped sunglasses, her blond hair pulled into a high ponytail.
Charleigh sighs at the sight of her, at hownormal—no,happy,contenther daughter actually looks.
Usually, she’d be locked in her room, chain-smoking, feetthudding the floor in angry steps. She never lies out by the pool anymore. This is because of that boy, Charleigh thinks, whoever he is. She’s tanning herself, spritzing her hair with Sun-In, and yes, smoking a cigarette, but doing so in a calm manner, delicately ashing in a Sprite can.
Charleigh strides outside, springs herself on Nellie.
Nellie flinches.
“You don’t have to put that out because of me. I know you smoke.”
Nellie lowers her sunglasses, rolls her eyes. But there’s also a smile playing on her lips.Thank God. “I know you know.” She takes a long pull, then drops the butt into the soda.
Charleigh walks toward her, two glasses of iced lemonade in her hands. Spiked with a little rum. An offering.
“Beverage?” she asks.
“Sure. Lemonade. Great.”
“No, this isadultlemonade.”
Nellie eyes her suspiciously. Charleigh never drinks with Nellie, but she’s on a mission to find out who Nellie’s mystery man is.
“Okaaay.” Nellie accepts the drink. “What’s in it for you?”
“Ha! You can’t just have a drink with your dear old ma?”
“Cut the shit.”
Charleigh sinks into the chair next to Nellie’s.
The pool gurgles next to them, and Charleigh, buzzed off her daiquiri, almost feels like a teenager again. Except she never had this experience as a teen, only wished she had. A surge ofemotion washes over her as she thinks about all she’s managed to give Nellie. She may not be a perfect mother, but just look at all this. When she was Nellie’s age, she’d be in the barn scrubbing dairy equipment right now.
And, for once, Nellie seemsokay.
Nellie sucks down half her spiked lemonade through the straw, grins at Charleigh. “Well, this is actually kinda nice.” She licks a finger, pages through the magazine. “But what’s the deal?”
“Well,” Charleigh starts, her voice quaky, “you seem…I don’t know…happyor something.” She flips her free hand through the air, as if asking a question.
Nellie peers at her over the top of the chlorine-crinkled magazine.
“You’re acting…like a girl in love.”
