Her eye roll isn’t a good sign. Right now, she wouldn’t pick that powder pink skirt suit, but probably something green. Or worse:red.
“You know what I mean, Genevieve. Your father offered to give you whatever position you want in one of his companies. You wouldn’t have to work as hard as you do now and for better pay.”
“Nepotism isn’t a good look,” I counter. This tired debate is one we go over a few times a year, and no matter what I say, neither of them realize they won’t change my mind about it.
“It’s not nepotism, it’s your birthright. You wouldn’t question the legitimacy of a prince for being born into royalty, would you?”
I frown, wondering if she can hear herself. “Actually, I would. A lot of people are condemning monarchies around the world.”
She huffs deeply, clearly bothered by my impertinence, and I decide to hold back. We haven’t even placed our orders yet, so I’m in for a very long and tiresome brunch if I anger her this early.
I examine the menu while she does the same. It gives us enough time to recompose ourselves so we can start over. She finds what she wants before I do, so I feel pressured to pick. I settle on the salmon, judging it reasonable enough.
“It’s not too late, you know,” she tells me once I set my menu down.
“For what?”
“Edward. He told me he would take you back if you promised to dedicate more time to your relationship.”
That one feels like a swift punch to the gut. Knowing the two of them spoke behind my back feels like an invasion of privacy. But the fact that my own mother blames me for the failed relationship hurts even more. All the work I’ve been doing on myself, the reassurance Hana gave me, the confidence I’ve been building back up… they go down the drain in an instant.
The five years I spent with Eddie, our plans for a future, the family we wanted to have… It rushes back to me like a bullet train, and I can’t stop the thoughts that make their way into my mind.
What if this is just a break? Eddie and I can spend some time apart, I hone my sexual abilities, he works on himself, and then we meet in the middle, ready to start over, to get back to our perfect plans. God knows I’ve gotten better at sex already, and I surely wouldn’t be as boring as before. My parents approve of him, and I enjoy his conciliatory temperament. He was the person I meant to spend the rest of my life with, after all, and this whole mess doesn’t have to be anything more than a bump on our way there.
We’ve had breaks in the past, where one of us usually went to spend a few days away for some space. This doesn’t have to be the end, but rather a longer, more significant pause in our relationship.
Unexpectedly, Jake jumps into my mind. I’m having a lot of fun with him, but it was never meant to be anything more than that. Good old fun that leaves me weak in the legs and sore between them. He isn’t the kind of person one builds a life with. Especially not someone like me. So that means I can keep seeing him for the time being, learn everything he has to teach me where sex is concerned, and then jump back into a stable and durable relationship.
Possibly with Edward.
“How have you been?” Mother asks, ignoring the havoc she just wreaked on me.
“Uh, fine. Working a lot.”
“Yes, we’ve already established that it shows. Weren’t you after a promotion or something?”
“Head of the legal department.”
She lets out a mocking sound I’m too familiar with, halfway between a sneer and a chuckle. “Your father could give you a position three promotions above this if you allowed him. Look at your brother. Gerry’s second in command and he’s thriving. You could be by their side if you allowed it.”
“I’m happy making my own way up the professional ladder, Mother. Once I’ve earned it the fair way, I might take Father up on his offer. But I refuse to have preferential treatment.”
“I do not understand your insistence on doing things like everyone else. You are a Kensington, not some commoner without any other choice.”
The waiter comes, and I silently thank the distraction. Mother orders a salad with the dressing on the side, and when I ask for the salmon, she frowns disapprovingly.
“What is the salmon served with?” she asks the server.
“Roasted asparagus and the chef’s rice, ma’am.”
“And the sauce?”
“Abeurre blanc.”
She pinches her lips, shaking her head as if to say that wouldn’t do. “She’ll have it without rice. And only a drizzle of lemon over the salmon.”
“No sauce at all?”
