Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
I can’t get over the feeling that somehow, someway, this is an inexplicable ruse. A trick with an end game I don’t know yet. It’s difficult to trust my mother. You can’t trust a person who’s spent years making you feel unworthy.
Mom isn’t done. “I spoke with your grandmother about it when we were in Charleston, and she pointed out that when I was your age, I was also insecure about my looks. And those insecurities aren’t helped by someone sharing their negative opinion about your wardrobe choices. Also, if you do choose to have a breast reduction—”
I brace myself again.
“—I will happily accompany you to the consultation. But if you choose not to, that is also okay.” She reaches out and touches the soft material of the crop top. “Either way, I’m sure you’re going to look wonderful in this. Why don’t you wear it today? Pair it with that long skirt we bought last week, the khaki one with the gold flowers? That might be a nice outfit for our day in Charleston.” Mom pauses. “That’s still the plan, right? Birthday Sunday in the city?”
“For sure. I just need to shower and change and then I’m ready to go.” I clutch the top a little tighter, surprised by the lump of emotion that forms in my throat. “Thank you for this. I love it.”
For once, I’m not lying.
CHAPTER 24
CASSIE
A few days after my birthday, Mom takes me and Tate out to dinner on the boardwalk. That in itself is a shocking development, but she continues to surprise me once we’re seated at the Italian place and she generously hands over the leather-bound wine menu to Tate.
“Why don’t you pick the wine, Tate?” It’s a big honor coming from Mom, and I can tell he’s fighting his amusement over the ceremonial tone with which she makes the offer.
I’m equally surprised Tate agreed to this dinner at all, considering he hasn’t been my mother’s biggest fan since the night she bimbo-shamed me. But Mom’s been badgering me about it for the past couple days. I suspect a part of her still doesn’t believe Tate and I are seeing each other and she wants visual proof.
I don’t entirely blame her. I mean, let’s not kid ourselves—Tate is probably the best-looking guy I’ve ever been in the same room as, and I’ve been surrounded by cute college boys for the last three years, so that says a lot. He surpasses them in looks. The perfect golden boy with his perfect face and perfect body. Even Mom can’t stop checking him out. It’s both creepy and validating, two things I didn’t think could coexist in my mind. But I like knowing I’m not just some foolish girl blinded by a crush. That he’s actually as hot as I think he is.
“I’m not a big wine drinker,” Tate tells her. “You’d be doing yourself a disservice if you put me on wine-picking duty for the night.” He hands the menu back. “But if you’re interested in beer, then I’m your man.”
Mom proceeds to do another shocking thing. “You know what? Let’s have beer tonight.”
My jaw drops. “You’re going to drink beer? Here?” This is one of the nicest restaurants in the Bay. Normally she wouldn’t be caught dead drinking anything other than the most expensive wine in the restaurant’s cellar.
There’s something different about her. Even her outfit gives off a different vibe. She’s clad in an expensive sleeveless dress, a sky blue that complements her red hair, which she’s uncharacteristically wearing down. She doesn’t seem so uptight tonight. She’d even complimented my dress when Tate and I met her outside the restaurant.
And don’t get me started on that perplexing exchange. Mom had greeted Tate with a warm smile and said, “Nice to see you again, Tate,” and he’d responded with, “Nice to see you again too, Tori.”
Tori.
My eyebrows almost jumped off my face as I turned to Mom to clarify. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call my mother Tori. Dad called her Vic sometimes, but mostly Victoria. Even Grandma always uses her entire name.
“All my friends call me that,” Mom had responded, rolling her eyes at me. “Where have you been, Cass?”
To be fair, I always kept a safe distance whenever she had a friend over to the penthouse. It was much easier than putting on the whole mother/daughter act, the one she’s so skilled at. When new friends, acquaintances, or strangers are around, she pretends we’re the bestest of friends. We’re Lorelai and Rory from Gilmore Girls, giggling together in our pajamas and casually chatting about our crushes.
Which has never happened, nor will it ever.
But I guess we’re pretending again tonight. Me and Tori. Best buds. Luckily, I know Tate can see through it.
When the waiter arrives, Tate orders an obscure-sounding beer, which he explains is locally brewed. Mom tells the server to make it two, but I beg off when he looks toward me. Instead, I order a Diet Coke. I need to keep a clear head. I don’t know why the three of us are here and it still feels like a trap.