“I need to get back to work.”
He stares at me, his arms lowering from where they were wrapped around me. “Of course.”
“Thank you for the necklace. Stay for as long as you like,” I mutter, and then stride out the door without another word. I need a minute alone to find the darkest corner of the club where I can gather myself.
My fingers skim over the charm as I lean against the wall, feelings overflowing as I stand in the dark, holding back sobs.
I don’t know why I’m crying, my mind flooded with memories of my mom, her sweet smile as she arrived home, pulling yet another trinket from her bag with such excitement and glee it spread through the whole house.
I haven’t received a present for my birthday in years.
My fingers clutch the tiny wind chime as I breathe deeply, trying to get myself under control. Somehow, in a mad andoverwhelming time in my life, I have managed to find someone who truly sees me for who I am.
And I will never really know him at all.
Chapter 35
Gray
Sunday lunch comes around too quickly. My mother usually has us over only once a month, but I got a text during the week demanding my presence, and I have a feeling I know why.
As I enter the house, Maddy comes down the stairs toward me, a happy smile on her face. She’s in a long, green dress I haven’t seen before, and as I hug her, it feels as if there’s about thirty layers of fabric beneath my palm.
“You look fancy,” I say as she pulls back.
“You like it?” she asks, doing a little spin. It’s the oddest dress I’ve ever seen, but with four sisters, I know when to keep my mouth shut.
“Very nice,” I say, trying to sound sincere.
She rolls her eyes at me. “You will never understand fashion, Gray. Mom wants to talk to you.”
“Yeah. I figured.”
“Why didn’t you bring Jacqueline? She’s way better company than you.”
“I figured that too,” I say wearily, walking to the kitchen.
The door frame is conspicuously bare. That’s a classic thing my mother does, too. She’ll say she loves a gift to someone’s face, but by the end of the day, it’ll be exchanged or gone altogether.
I can’t help but smile in disbelief when I notice that not only the wind chime is gone, but the whole hook has been wrenched out of the door frame.
“Hi Mom,” I say brightly, leaning up against the door as I see Lola slinking away into the sunroom.
My mother slams a pot onto the stove, stirring it vigorously before chopping up mushrooms so violently I wonder if she might slice off her thumb in the process.
She doesn’t answer me, continuing to cook, one of the pots on the stove boiling over. I go to it, turning down the heat.
“If your intention was to humiliate me, then you succeeded,” she snaps icily, pushing me out of the way and dumping onions into the sauce she’s making.
I step back, leaning against the window ledge, trying to keep my temper in check.
“I wasn’t trying to do anything,” I say.
“Margaret told me that youabandonedSarah at the restaurant when someone who sounds suspiciously like Jax stormed in and accused you of cheating. Jax is clearly unhinged. You won’t be seeing her again.”
I am glad that my hands are in my pockets because my nails are digging into my palm so hard I can feel my heartbeat.
“Take this out to the table,” she says, thrusting a bowl of salad at me. “And call your sisters.”
