“But it’s not yours, is it?”
Astrid could lie. She should. But her mother already knew the truth. In fact, Isabel didn’t even wait for her to answer. She simply shook her head, that disapproving press of her mouth like a gun shot through her daughter’s chest.
And then... Astrid felt it happen. The old Astrid—the Astrid before Jordan, before Delilah, before breaking up with Spencer, before ten orgasms and baking until her fingers cramped—took over. She slid right into place, like a key in a lock, that young, scared, sad, desperate-for-her-mother’s-love Astrid.
“I’m still the lead designer,” she said. “On film, on paper. It’s still me.”
Isabel narrowed her eyes. “And that woman is fine with this arrangement?” She spitwomanlike it was a four-letter word.
Astrid hated it.
She hated the person she became in her mother’s presence. But she didn’t know hownotto be this person. Her mother... she was all Astrid had. Her only family. Her only everything for most of her thirty years.
“Yes,” she heard herself say, her voice robotic. “Jordan is fine with this arrangement.”
A knot lodged itself in her throat as she finished the sentence, everything in the center of her chest screaming,No, no, no, no.
Because Jordan shouldn’t be fine with it. Meredith was right. It was so goddamn clear now, this unease Astrid had felt growing since the second the two of them decided on this plan. Astrid wasn’t simply the front woman to an equal partnership. This wasn’tequal. This was...
God, she couldn’t even get the thought to form clearly in her brain. Because if it did, what then? What would happen to this whole deal she and Jordan had, this whole ruse that they both needed?
That’s what Astrid had to remember. This was for Jordan, for the Everwoods, as much as it was for her.
Wasn’t it?
Isabel huffed a breath through her nose. “Well, I certainly hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t have to tell you the kind of disaster that would ensue if anyone were to find out the truth.”
Astrid nodded. The good little girl. The dutiful daughter.
“As far as this”—Isabel flicked her eyes toward Astrid’s living room, where Astrid supposed Jordan was perfectly visible—“relationship is concerned, I don’t care who you spend your time with, Astrid. I really don’t. You made your choice with Spencer and I honored it, but this is yourlife. The world is not as kind as you think it is, and I certainly hope you’re not letting novel, fleeting emotions cloud your judgment. Your reputation is who you are, and you need to get it together before you lose yourself completely.”
And with that, Isabel Parker-Green brushed past her daughter without another word and left.
Chapter Twenty-nine
JORDAN WATCHED ASTRID’Smother glide out the front door, nogoodbyeorfuck youor anything. The woman seemed like an utter delight. She knew Isabel Parker-Green was a piece of work, but shit. Jordan’s own hands were shaking, and she had barely spent two minutes in the woman’s presence.
Jordan sat down on Astrid’s couch, watching Astrid on the back porch. She hadn’t come in yet, nor had she really moved at all since her mother left ten minutes ago. Whatever they had discussed outside, it had been short and, given the way Astrid’s shoulders curled inward right now, not so sweet.
Jordan stood up from the couch. Sat back down. She wanted to go to Astrid, but she wanted to give her space too. She knew what it was like to have someone hovering when she was losing her shit, thanks very much to her twin brother.
Then again, as annoying as Simon’s concern was at times, it was stillcare. It was love, and goddammit, Jordan wanted to give that to Astrid right now.
She stood up again. Squared her shoulders and started toward the porch, then decided it was probably a good idea to bring a little liquid courage, so she jogged into the kitchen and filled two glasses with pinot grigio. Properly armed, she opened the back door as quietly as she could. Stepping outside felt like stepping into another world. It was spring-warm, clouds gathering overhead, but they held back their rain, a gentle blanket of calm over the fading day.
Astrid didn’t turn around. She stayed facing the backyard, but Jordan saw her shoulders come down just a little.
“Hey,” Jordan said, stepping up next to Astrid and offering her one of the glasses.
Astrid took it, then gulped down half, shuddering as she swallowed.
“Damn, that bad?” Jordan asked. She went for a light tone, hoping they could have a laugh about Jordan answering the door in little more than her underwear, only to find her lover’s mother standing there like Meryl Streep with a stick up her ass.
Astrid just released a trembling breath, took another swig.
“What can I do?” Jordan asked.
Astrid shook her head. “I told her. I told her we were seeing each other.”
