Ledger’s jaw flexed from across the room. His hands had stilled completely.
Mom sighed dramatically, the martyr of the century. “I want to meet him. This … Ledger.”
“It’s not a good time,” I said quietly. It made me cringe to know that they’d done enough digging to find out his name. And probably his lack of a pedigree.
“It is absolutely a good time,” she corrected. “If you’re going to throw your life away, I deserve to at least see the man you’re doing it for. And Roxie?” she sighed. “What do you even plan to do with that money now?”
She acted like there was no way I could possibly know what to do with money if I didn’t have the proper man to help me. It hardened my resolve to prove to her that I was capable of more than just marrying some well-to-do man and being his trophy wife.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t made a plan yet, hadn’t figured out what I wanted to do. So instead of pushing my shoulders back and answering with pride, my shoulders only drooped.
“I don’t know yet,” I whispered. “But I’ll figure it out.”
“You should have listened to us. There was a plan for you. A proper one.”
My throat constricted. I stepped toward the tiny window because I couldn’t stand still anymore. “I’m not doing this right now.”
“Of course you’re not,” she said briskly. “Call mewhen you’re ready to talk like a grown-up instead of a child making emotional decisions.”
And then she hung up.
I didn’t move. I barely breathed.
My chest felt like it was caving inward, like she’d taken every single barely healed bruise and pressed her thumb directly onto it.
The silence afterward rang.
Ledger stood slowly, making his way over to the doorway of the bedroom. “Roxie?” he said carefully.
I blinked hard, keeping my back to him. “It’s fine.”
“It didn’t sound fine.”
I forced a laugh, brittle and pathetic. “It never does with her.”
A long pause. Too long.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That she talks to you like that.”
Something inside me cracked at that, so gently I almost didn’t feel it at first. Then it spread, warm and painful.
I turned halfway toward him, arms wrapped around myself. “It’s normal.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
My throat ached. “She’s just disappointed.”
“Yeah.” His voice was low. “I heard.”
I winced, realizing how much he must’ve caught. Of course he had. The apartment was the size of a shoebox, and my mom’s voice was probably loud enough to be heard across the street.
“She thinks I ruined my life.”
He studied me with an expression I couldn’t read. Something intense. Something frustrated. Something … protective?
“Did you?” he asked softly.
I shook my head. “No. I made a choice, and I’m standing by it.”
