“Which one?” Standing, I cross the room and crouch in front of his small shelves holding every fairytale and story book available. “Jack and the Beanstalk?Goldilocks?Robin Hood?”
Silence is my answer, so I turn. Nick’s fast asleep already with his head nestled in the pillows and his earlier upset completely forgotten. The sight is enough to soothe my heart, but the guilt for snapping at him remains a tight ball under my ribs as I head back downstairs. The kitchen’s empty when I enter, so I retrieve a carton of cold noodles from the fridge and slump against the counter.
What a day.
I learned nothing from Elijah other than he’s not married anymore and he’s keeping up the pretense of a good CEO simply ensuring his product remains ethical. It’s hard to pry without revealing what I know because I run the risk of ruining whatever the deal between him and Jimmy is. And until I know more, I have to consider the possibility that the deal will be good. Then again, after Jimmy screwed me over, I can’t fathom any good coming out of that damn company anymore.
The noodles, slathered in a sweet, sticky sauce, catch in my throat and I have to swallow repeatedly to get them to shift. Just as I shove another mouthful past my lips, Mom walks into the kitchen with a catalog in hand.
“What’s what?”
She ignores me at first, passing by me to reach the fridge and retrieve a bottle of wine. “Colors.”
“Colors?”
“For the living room.”
A wave of despair crashes over me. “We talked about this, Mom. We can’t afford to redecorate.”
“I won’t have you dictate what I can and can’t do in my own home!”
“Mom, I’m not trying to?—”
“Yes, you are!” She brandishes the catalog like a weapon and points it at me. “You keep getting in the way of things that make me happy!”
“Are you kidding me?” I slam my noodles down on the counter. “How can you stand there and act so ungrateful? I’m bendingover backward to keep this family afloat, and all you want to do is throw away money we do nothaveon an unnecessary overhaul! We don’t have the money, Mom! I’m trying to stop you from putting yourself in debt!”
“You don’t understand,” Mom snaps right back. “You have no idea what it’s like to exist in this house and have everything remind me of your father! Everything we chose together, everything we picked out… I can’t look at it anymore. I can’t!”
My heart breaks, not just for her but for the disregard to my own pain. It’s a losing battle against the tears in my eyes. “Of course I understand. He was mydad. I loved him too. But he wouldn’t want us to put ourselves in debt over this.”
Mom’s eyes narrow to slits and her mouth twists. “All I’m trying to do is make this house livable,” she snaps bitterly. “How did I raise such a cruel daughter? What happened to you?”
She looks me up and down once and stalks out of the kitchen, leaving me speechless.
I don’t have the strength left to keep the tears at bay.
13
ELIJAH
My heart pounds in time to the thump of my feet against the frozen ground, each step carefully planned around piles of leaves, discarded trash, and parts of the path that look far too icy to step on.
Jogging is the only thing taking me out of my hotel room right now. Burying myself in work is a decent distraction, but there’s a part of me that misses the busyness of New York. Out here, with less to focus on, it’s quiet and my mind has less to distract itself with.
So I jog.
Down the slope, across a patch of grass, and up the steps two at a time, leaves me panting harshly by the time I reach the top. My thighs ache, my T-shirt clings to my back with sweat, and the ends of my hoodie sleeves tighten slightly as my sweat soaks into the fabric. Clouds pour from my lips as my hot breath spills into the cool evening air, and through it all, the heavy thumps of my rock playlist keeps my momentum going.
Until the music stalls for the sound of a phone call.
“Hello?” I gasp after tapping my earbuds.
“Jesus, am I interrupting?” Buster’s cheery tones fill my ear.
“Jogging.”
“Right. Mr. Fitness over here.”
