It’s hard to imagine what my parents were like when they were younger, before they had me. It’s easy to forget that they might have had life plans that didn’t develop once they said, ‘I do.’
“I don’t want to fight with you about this,” I say gently. “And I get what you’re saying, and I’m not giving up on my dreams. But right now, I don’t have a lot of options. I have to work, Mom, like most people do. It’s just the way it has to be right now. I’ve already picked up a few extra classes at the studio.”
Her thin shoulders relax, but she’s standing ramrod straight and I can feel the anxiety radiating off her. She’s always been a nervous person who suffers with her anxiety disorder as quietly as possible. Since my father’s arrest, it’s been harder for her to mask. She barely eats, her hands slightly shake all of the time, and she’s always doing something—anything—to avoid sitting still.
“You look nice. What are your plans for today?” she asks.
Ah, the standard diversion technique.
Glancing down at myself, I take a deep breath andconsider if I’m ready to officially do this. To take the plunge. To accept Nate Windemere’s deal and tell my mother the lie I’ve been forming as a cover story for my absence over the next six months.
I’m wearing some of Cleo’s borrowed clothes. A white leather mini skirt and a faded Queen T-shirt, ankle boots, and gold hoops in my ears. Everything is designer but made to look old and worn, so unless you know, you wouldn’t guess that the skirt cost just shy of two-thousand dollars and the boots twice that. It felt good to put on clothes that I’m used to wearing after having little of my own to pick from. There are a lot of things my father’s money could buy that I didn’t care about, but clothes are a different story. I don’t play into the whole rich girl thing very much unless we’re talking about my wardrobe.
Mom comes over to the coffee table and selects a magazine, thumbing through it with a yawn. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and I swear she’s aged years in the past few months. My chest squeezes.
“Why don’t you leave him?” I blurt.
The question surprises us both, but God knows I’ve been thinking about it forever and I don’t understand why she stays. His money helped make up for his shit behavior in the past, but that’s gone now, and his rage has only worsened.
Her smile isn’t convincing. “It’s complicated, Piper. You wouldn’t understand.”
“There’s no money left. I’m grown. There’s no reason for you to stay and put up with him anymore.”
She turns back to the wall. “That’s enough.”
Two words said with more genuine emotion that she’s displayed around me in years. Fine, I’ll drop it. For now.
It’s time to bust out my cover story and hope she doesn’t catch me out in the lie.
“So I’ve been meaning to tell you…Cleo’s mom is going to Europe for a few months to stay with her new boyfriend. Cleo doesn’t want to be in that big house in the city all alone, so she’s asked me to come live with her until her mom gets back. I figured you and Dad would probably appreciate having the extra space.”
“Oh.” She takes a few steps backward and sits on the end of the sofa. Picking up her mug, she sips her tea and looks at me over the rim. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
My mother doesn’t know Cleo’s mother well and they aren’t close enough acquaintances that my mom will find out none of this is true.
I nod. “It’ll be great for me. My commute will be thirty minutes instead of three hours, and I’ll be able to save whatever money I make and hang out with my best friend at the end of the day. Maybe I’ll even have time to take an online class or two once I get into a routine.”
“That would be great, dear.”
Her voice is tired, but I don’t let it deter me or increase the guilt I already have. If I do this successfully, I’ll be married off and have the resources to help my family. The women in my family, anyway. It wasn’t on my original to-do list, but having the cash to help my mom get the hell away from my father is now priority number two.
It might be easier to get her to walk away if she didn’t love him. I’m not sure why she still does, but her love forhim is there and it’s binding her to a disaster that’s going to eat her alive.
Windemere might be onto something with this whole auction/arranged marriage thing. Marriage is better as a business deal, but only if done right. My mother didn’t have any protection in this union and once my father lost it all, so did she.
No, her negotiations should have been better. She should have built some of her own assets that he couldn’t touch. Granted, my father built a life by stealing other people’s money, but he didn’t start out that way. He’s only been embezzling the past few years, and they’ve been married far longer.
When it’s time for me to get married, I’m going to negotiate hard, and never, ever get my emotions involved.
Our conversation dies off and she closes her eyes “for a minute” and falls asleep soon after. It’s my cue to take the next step.
Damn, I’m nervous.
Checking my appearance in the mirror in my room, I fiddle with my hair and makeup. I don’t want Nate to second-guess his offer, especially since we both know he’s taking a chance on me when no one else will. Going to the club made me realize that.
I listen to music on the long train ride, trying to calm my racing nerves. The moment I step into the fray at Penn Station, all the doubts and apprehension come back.
This is your only option, I remind myself.
