Summoned by his laughter, I turned to face him.
He smiled now, one I’d never seen before, and I imagined it was reserved for his mom. “She’s nothing like me. She’s chatty and welcoming. She never quite understood where I came from.”
“She sounds wonderful,” I said.Of course she was wonderful. She made you.
Leaning my head back, I shut my eyes for a second. I hadn’t been sleeping well, and right now, in this giant moving vehicle, with my favorite music and my favorite boss, I felt a warm calm take over. “It’s nice that you’re close.”
“What’s your mom like?” he asked, and sucked in a deep breath. “It’s okay if you don’t want to answer. I didn’t mean to pry. I know everyone is always curious when it comes to your family.”
I kept my eyes closed, knowing if I opened them, I’d find himstudying me. “My mother is… She’s beautiful and funny and…”Trapped in a relationship with an evil man.“And… busy. She’s really busy, so I don’t see her much.”
He didn’t ask any more questions, but I found myself wanting to tell him things.
“She was a model. Her name’s Charlotte.”
“Oh,” he said, and the surprise in his voice was genuine. Everyone else who’d met me had already known.
“I kind of… followed in her footsteps for a while.”
I didn’t miss the flashing lights, the way the clothing didn’t fit, and the unhealthy competition with the other girls. I’d mastered the value of a flawless fake smile before I’d mastered multiplication.
“Did you like it?” Lincoln asked, almost a whisper.
My eyes flew open, and I turned to face him. His gaze moved between me and the road.
“Not really.” Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away. It was that time in my cycle where my emotions were a little more heightened than usual.
The low grumble he failed at swallowing went straight into my belly, untwisting me in the process.
“It’s okay,” I said, noting the way his knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. “It was Douglas’s idea. Not hers.”
“Douglas?”
“Douglas Gordon-Bettencourt, my stepfather. Surely you’ve heard of him.”
Lincoln looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Of course I have. But… I thought he was your father.”
“Most people think so. That’s what he wants people to believe, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t try to understand the workings of his mind anymore.”
Lincoln’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head.
I swallowed the unwelcome lump in my throat. My hormones were wreaking havoc today.
A few seconds later, we pulled up in front of a bright yellow house. The garden sprawled out in front of it was filled with furniture and bordered by lines of beautiful roses. In the corner, there was a small vegetable and herb patch.
The door flung open, and a woman, who had Lincoln’s rich brown skin, straight nose, and black curls, walked up to the truck, her arms already spread wide.
Lincoln did what I called theyikesface before hopping out. I reached for the handle, but he somehow sprinted around and opened the door for me before I could get to it. I slid out of the truck, even though Lincoln was there, ready and waiting with an elbow extended. But it was better not to touch him. Every accidental office brush had my body malfunctioning.
“Mom, this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is my mom, Irene,” Lincoln said after being released from his mother’s tight hug and kisses.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Carden,” I said.
She pulled me into a hug too. “You can call me Irene.” She extended her hands, pushing me away before looking at my face. “You are stunning.” She gasped and looked at Lincoln. “Look at her fiery hair, and those eyes. Lincoln, look!”
“I’ve seen her, Mom. Every day at work,” he replied, and looked skyward. He offered us a smile before stalking off. I couldn’t hear him, but I knew he was sighing.
“Come inside. I’m baking for you.” She pulled me into the house.
