Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Since I can’t find an appropriate response, I murmur, “I help them move on.”
“No, you help them turn a blind eye to the scheming pieces of shit they’d already moved on from before you became a part of their lives.” I’ve never seen her so worked up when she gets up in my face and says, “If she wants a billionaire’s house after she’s given him an heir and a spare, she deserves the billionaire’s house. If she wants to keep the Rolls Royce he gifted her on her birthday, she deserves to keep it.”
She hits me where she knows it will hurt. “If she wants to make him fret for a week about a family heirloom he offered when he asked her to be his wife, she gets to make him fret! It is the least he should suffer for making her sit across from them making out like teens for an entire week three weeks out from their wedding!”
Her snarl is vicious. “It isn’t up to you to inflate her ego to such an unmanageable level that she walks over everyone she’s meant to love.” Her voice cracks when she murmurs, “She’s our mother, Zane, so I will always love her, but has she ever put us first? Has she ever wondered how it feels for us to have these men introduced into our lives over and over again?” She angrily wipes at a tear streaming down her face. “Has she ever wondered how this affects us? How it affected you?”
“No, she hasn’t,” I admit, the fight no longer in me. The wind was released from my sails when she compared the women I thought I was helping to our mother.
Casey doesn’t hesitate to continue cutting me down. “Then don’t blame Santa for your fucked-up notions of what women want. Make the real culprit pay.”
When she darts past our mother coming to check we’ve set the aisle up exactly how she wants, my father signals that he will take care of Casey while I deal with the actual perpetrator of her upset.
Her angst started with my stupid belief that women require my friendship to know they can let go of their heartache and survive, but it ended with our mother’s inability to do precisely that.
“Sweetheart, what happened?” My mother fixes the collar of my suit, ensuring it sits right, before locking her eyes with mine. “You know you need to be cautious with Casey. She isn’t as confident as us. She’s not as strong.”
“Ma, stop. Casey isn’t your competition. She’s your daughter.” With one truth comes many. “And I’m your son. Your son. I’m not the person you’re supposed to rely on to fix your broken heart all the time. That’s your partner’s job, the man you’re meant to lean on in return for your affection. When something breaks, you’re supposed to give him a chance to fix it.” When she looks like she can’t believe the words I’m speaking, I hit her with gospel honesty. “I thought I was helping you and making you a better person.” I shake my head. “I made everything worse.”
“What are you talking about, sweetheart? You’re perfect.”
“No.” I pull her hands down and hold them at her sides. “Because if I were, I would have done this years ago.”
I smile at her to ensure she knows I will always love her, before I join my father and sister at the back of the church and then lead our walk outside.
17
ZANE
“You know I’m not twelve, right?” Casey asks between licks of her ice cream. “I would have gotten over my heartache of being ditched on Christmas Eve without ice cream.”
“Ice cream is the perfect opener for a conversation you don’t realize you need to have until…” I stop talking when it dawns on me that I’m using the lessons I learned from our mother on another unsuspecting victim. “It’s a nice night for a stroll, so I thought, what the hell, I deserve a treat.”
I smile when I recall Kelsey saying something similar the night we met. It’s the first genuine smile I’ve given this week.
“It is.” Casey tilts in like the air is chilly. “I love this time of year. The twinkling lights and endless Santas on every corner. The excuse to gorge on calories isn’t bad either.” She peers up at me with her glistening eyes on full display. “Do you think she’ll keep her promise this time around?”
When she nudges her head half a block up, a heaviness I haven’t been able to shift for the past week no matter how hard I try to fix my wrongs intensifies.
“Probably not,” I answer, knowing a leopard can’t change its spots in a week even when striving like fuck to do exactly that. “But I hope he’s smart enough not to get hurt this time.”