My parents should really remove those swinging doors. What a hazard.
Or…maybe you should walk through them more carefully, a voice harps in the back of my mind.
“Mom,” I shout again, flustered and aggravated.
“I’m in here,” she calls back with a casual softness. As I turn the corner into the room, I find her sitting at the piano, playing something new. The sound of her piano playing is so familiar and calming, and I pause to take a heavy breath.
She stops and glances up at me with pity when she sees the frustration on my face. Not an ounce of surprise.
“What happened?”
With a surrendering sigh, I walk over to the bench and take a seat next to her. It’s a spot in the house more familiar to me than my own bedroom. I grew up on this piano bench, learning the keys before I could even reach the pedals.
“Nothing,” I mutter, because being here, in this place of comfort with her, suddenly makes whatever I was stressing about a moment ago start to fade.
“Wanna play?”
I toss my stained shirt on the top of the piano and rest my fingers on the keys. The feel of them grounds me. Slowly, I play a few chords, and she accepts that as my answer.
As we play an old song of hers together, she whispers, “It’s just a shirt.”
“I know,” I mumble in reply. Though it’s more than a shirt to me. It’s part of an entire ensemble, one meant to protect me. But she wouldn’t understand.
“Wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” she asks.
I only shake my head as I continue to play the lower chords while she plays the higher ones, not sure how to articulate this frustration, not just with the shirt but with everyone and everything. Even that strange encounter last night in the elevator has stuck with me. The armor I put up worked because that guy looked right through me, and for the first time in a long time…that made me feel so empty.
I know I look and act like a pretentious dick, but it’s not like I enjoy feeling this way. I don’t know why I feel so compelled to do it, but it’s almost as if I fulfill the role everyone else has set out for me.TheRonan Kade’s son, the son of a billionaire, the son who was given everything he ever wanted,mustbe a spoiled brat.
So that’s the part I play, whether I like it or not.
If I tried, she’d tell me that everyone loves me and everyone is proud of me, and she wouldn’t understand anyway.
“Are you bringing a date to the party?” she asks, nudging my side with her shoulder.
I chuckle, letting only my mom see the smile curling on my lips. “No, Mother.”
“Why not? You haven’t met anyone?”
“Intentionally, no.”
“Someday, Julian. Someone is going to find out you have a heart of gold, and they’re going to fall head over heels for you.”
As she teases me, I can’t help but snicker. Then I tilt my head in her direction as I mutter, “If you tell anyone, I’ll never talk to you again.”
She laughs, throwing her arm around my shoulder and hugging me tight. Normally, I’m not one for physical affection, but it’s my mother, for fuck’s sake, and it’s not like there’s anyone around to see.
Or so I assumed.
Someone clears their throat behind me, and I spin around to see Amelia’s friend, standing at the top of the stairs. Her wavy black hair is draped over her shoulders, and her blue satin blouse hangs from her petite frame, the sleeves too long for her arms.
“Sorry, Mrs. Kade. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she murmurs nervously. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving. Thank you again.”
This girl must be joking. Why can’t she just leave? I roll my eyes as I turn my back to her.
“Oh, that’s okay, Freya. Thank you so much. You did extraordinary today. Your parents must be so proud.”
My skin pricks with resentment as I glare down at the keys under my fingers.
