“It’s going to stay in the family.”
“Townsend, sweetheart.” Mother gives a withering smile. “That woman is not family.”
Townsend feels a sudden urge to overturn the table, run out of the restaurant, drive his car into the pool. He looks around for a waiter he can flag down instead. A drink will calm his nerves. “Okay, well, maybe not yet. But she will be after I ask her to marry me.”
“No, dear. She won’t.”
A server finally appears. Townsend orders a glass of top-shelf Macallan as a satisfying sort of “fuck you” to his mom, who will later have to foot the bill. He’s ready for a fight. “Can you just tell me what your problem is with her?”
“I don’t have a problem with her.”
“You clearly do.”
“I don’t. Really.” Mother shrugs. “I just think marrying her would be a mistake.”
“Which would imply you have a problem.”
“It’s just ...” Mother purses her lips, looking regretful for ever having agreed to meet Townsend here. “Like I said before, she comes from a different—”
“A different world, I know,” he finishes for her.
A beat of silence follows; Mother seems to be deciding whether to confess something. Honesty wins out. “I’m having her followed.”
“You’re what?”
“I hired someone to follow her. A private investigator.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
His mom glares at him; the waiter has just arrived with his drink and no doubt heard Townsend’s expletive.
“Pardon my language,” he mutters to them both.
Once the waiter has shuffled off, Mother clears her throat. “Like I told you, I do not trust her. I feel like she’s hiding something. And so I decided to have someone look into her.”
“Is this what Carter Bonier was talking about when he told me he had a name for you?”
Mother’s brow twitches; her Botox must prevent her from being able to properly arch it. “When did you speak to Carter?”
No way is Townsend getting into his legal troubles now, especially since (as far as he knows) he has no troubles. He sent Sage Clinic the falsified documents. He heard nothing but “thank you” in return—and so far, he’s heard nothing from Amanda either. While his ex continues to harass his girlfriend, Amanda seems content to leave him be, though the fact remains that she knows more than she should. Perhaps he should give that private investigator a call himself.
He ignores Mother’s question, instead telling her, “This is insane, Mom. Seriously.” He pauses to take a swig of his whisky, and then adds, “Did you even find anything?” A tiny bit of curiosity edges into his voice; he hopes his mom doesn’t hear it.
“It’s just . . .”
Clearly Mother is dying to share something. “What?”
“She is perhaps a little more ...fragilethan you may realize.”
“What do you mean by ‘fragile’?”
His mom runs a polished nail around the edge of her glass. She’s loving his eagerness. “How much has she told you about her life before moving here?”
“I mean, I know where she’s from. I know where she went to college. What else is there to know?”
“Do you know that her real name is Natalia?”
Townsend did not know this. “Plenty of people use nicknames.”
