He stepped back, as if to better assess me.“You’ve never once taken my concerns seriously.”
My neck prickled and I felt heat rising to my cheeks.“You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“Sometimes it’s like you don’t even pay attention to anyone else.All you care about are your own problems.”
If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was being called selfish.Heat rose to my face, burning my ears.Was it shame?Guilt?Indignation?I didn’t care.Whyshouldn’tI be selfish?I was the one who was struggling to keep a failing shop open, with a mother who disliked me as much as she didn’t believe in me.The consequences of my failure were far greater than Maddox’s.
“You want me to pay attention?Fine,” I snapped.“You’re a spoiled nobleman’s son who wants so badly to have problems of your own so you make not being able to meet your father’s expectations your entire personality!”
The words left me before I could think.We had bickered before, but never like this.Maddox’s expression grew pained, then angry.It was hard to believe that moments ago, I had defended him so wholeheartedly.
Instead of yelling back, Maddox only shook his head.“There it is,” he said quietly.
The walk home after that felt even worse than the one with Ma.
20
Ireturned to the houseand Maddox walked on—back to Beatrice’s, I presumed.It felt terrible, leaving things off that way.I cursed myself for not thinking before I spoke.Somehow I didn’t think my comment would cut him so deeply.
Just when I passed the parlor, Christabella ran downstairs in a flurry of yellow skirts.Sonny followed at her heels.
“Gigi!There’s been news,” Christabella said, somewhat out of breath, as if she’d been racing through the neighborhood.
“Manuel Greenwood passed away,” I said, dropping my satchel to the floor.“He was the weather witch in charge of light.And his wife refuses to continue her work and take his place.”
“That’s what we heard too,” Christabella said.“Wow.We just came back from visiting the west weather tower.You’re almost as quick as Ma.”
Sonny stuck his head over her shoulder.“Rumors have it that Maude murdered him herself.”
Not unlikely.She didn’t seem too torn up about her husband.
“It’s a good thing there are still weather witches,” Christabella said.“We still have air flow and temperature control.”
“So what about light?”I said.“Otherwise we’re just in a well-ventilated pit.”
It was uncomfortable being down here without a sky and a sun, even if they weren’t real to begin with.
