Isabel’s knuckles whitened on her umbrella, the most un-poised Astrid had ever seen her. “I just wanted you to know that I’m here.When you’re ready, I’d like to ta—” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “When you’re ready to talk, I’d like to listen.”
Astrid’s eyes went wide. Her mother was a horrible listener. Astrid couldn’t think of a single moment in her life when she’d felt heard.
And maybe her mother had finally realized it.
“Okay,” Astrid said. “I’ll let you know.”
Isabel nodded, straightened her pocketbook on her shoulder with her free hand, and turned to go.
She came face to face with Jordan Everwood.
Astrid held her breath, but she also took a step forward. No way in hell was Astrid going to let her mother say one derogatory thing to Jordan. Not today, not ever.
The other two women both froze, a bag of sushi dangling from Jordan’s elbow and Astrid’s clear umbrella over her head, rain plinking onto the surface.
“Um, hi,” she said.
Isabel rolled her shoulders back. “Hello, Jordan,” she said. “It’s... it’s nice to see you again.”
Jordan’s brow soared into her hair, and she caught Astrid’s eye over Isabel’s shoulder.
“I saw your work for your family’s inn,” Isabel said. “It’s lovely. Truly.”
“Oh,” Jordan said, blinking. “Thank you.”
And with that, Isabel slid past her, got into her BMW, and drove away.
“Holy shit, did I just get a compliment from Isabel Parker-Green?” Jordan asked, walking up to Astrid. Once under the porch’s covering, she closed the umbrella and set it against the house.
“I think you did. Not that you need it.”
“Oh no, of course not.” Jordan made apshsound and waved a hand, making Astrid laugh. “Seriously, though. You okay?”
Astrid didn’t answer right away. Honestly, she felt a little raw and exhausted, those few words with Isabel completely sapping her of all energy. But her mother was... her mother. A part of Astrid would always be desperate for approval, for love. She didn’t think that was wrong, for a daughter to want that from her own parent, especially one who raised Astrid all alone. She wanted Isabel in her life.
But for once, Astrid was going to do something on her terms, and Isabel knew it. That knowledge made her feel strong.
She nodded, then tapped her chest. “Maybe it’s the power of the clit necklace, but yeah. I think I am. I feel sort of... badass.”
Jordan laughed, hooking an arm around Astrid’s waist and pulling her in for a kiss. “Astrid Parker, you are the biggest badass I know.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Two Months Later
THE EVERWOOD INNglowed. Soft amber sconces lit every hallway, every room, and strategically placed candles made all the glasses of champagne in the room glitter. A very queer band Astrid had found in Portland called the Katies played in the library, guitars and mandolins crooning in a perfect Brandi Carlile sort of style.
Astrid Parker stood by a sage bookshelf packed with all manner of romances and books most definitelynotpenned by dead white men. She sipped her champagne and watched as the crowd—which was significant, people coming from as far as New York City to celebrate the grand reopening of the Everwood Inn—fussed and fawned over her girlfriend.
Jordan looked amazing. She always did, but tonight, dressed in a tailored black suit, white dress shirt open at the neck, her ruby-red lipstick perfectly in place, her golden-brown hair swooping over her forehead, Astrid’s breath caught every time she caught a glimpse of her.
“So she’s a total rock star,” Iris said from next to Astrid, tipping her glass toward Jordan, who was gliding through the crowd withNatasha Rojas, hands in her pockets, stance wide and confident each time they stopped to talk to someone who wanted to meet the designer.
“Yeah,” Astrid said. “She really is.”
TheOrchidpiece featuring the astonishing and groundbreaking transformation of the Everwood Inn had just been released earlier that week. A month ago, when Natasha had been in town with herOrchidphotographer and writer for the final shoot of the recently finished inn, she’d given them the piece’s release date, so of course, Astrid knew the perfect time to host a reopening party would be soon after, capitalizing on the buzz the magazine feature created in the design world.
And she’d been right.
