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 had to live with that woman, and he knows what it was like living with her. But he got rid of her, he got to leave. I didn’t have that luxury, did I? I had to keep living with her, keep listening to all the ways I wasn’t fucking good enough. And meanwhile he gets to stay here in my house,” I spit out. It’s a half growl, half sob. “With his new kids and their mother. Their perfect fucking mother.”
I bury my face against her bosom and shake from my tears. She holds me tighter and runs her hand over my back, strokes my hair, and that only makes it worse because it’s what a mother is supposed to do. And that makes me cry harder.
Somehow, I manage to lift my head even though it feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.
“I wish you were my mom,” I tell her, my voice barely above a whisper.
And then it finally happens—the mortification kicks in, in the form of a panic attack that knocks me off my feet. It all bubbles over and I can’t breathe. I’ve never had a panic attack before, the kind where you’re hyperventilating. Suddenly I’m on the ground, the gravel biting into my bare knees. I gulp for air, crying and panting and avoiding Nia’s worried eyes because I can’t believe I just said that to her.
She’s kneeling beside me now. “Breathe,” she orders. “Breathe, Cassandra. Look at me.”
I look at her.
“Do what I’m doing. Take a very deep breath. Inhale. Ready?”
I inhale.
“Good. Now exhale.”
I exhale.
For the next couple of minutes, she helps me remember how to breathe. In and out, in and out, until my heartbeat has regulated and my hands are no longer numb.
“I’m so sorry,” I croak. I glance toward the house, realizing the porch light is on. I catch a glimpse of movement in the living room window. Was that my father? “Did I wake up the whole house?”
“Non, non, you didn’t.”
“How did you know I was outside?”
“The doorbell camera sends an alert to my phone. It woke me up, but your father was still asleep.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in. Something just happened tonight, and …” I trail off.
“Is everything all right? Your grandmother?”
“It’s fine. She’s fine.” I inhale again. “We were at the grand reopening of our family hotel, and …” I shake my head, a bitter laugh sliding out. “Well, long story short, my mother decided to announce to the entire ballroom that she had an affair with my boyfriend’s father when I was ten.”
Nia’s eyes widen. “Oh.”
“According to her, Dad knew about the affair.” I study my stepmother’s face. “Did he tell you about it?”
After a beat, she nods. “He told me, yes. But I don’t believe he knew who the other man was.”
“I don’t think he knew. Tate’s mom didn’t know about my mom.” God. This is such a twisted mess. “It was so embarrassing, you have no idea. I was looking at Mom and she was this total stranger to me. Getting enjoyment out of it. My whole life, I’ve just wanted a mom. And tonight I realized that’s never going to happen. Not with her.” I give Nia a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not your kid. You don’t need to be sitting out here in the middle of the night comforting me.”
Nia’s tone becomes stern. “I may not have birthed you, Cassandra, but I certainly view you as a daughter.”
“Bullshit.” Then I wince. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.”
She laughs quietly. “Don’t worry, every day the word merde gets spoken in this house more times than I can count. And it’s not bullshit. I admit, I’ve kept my distance over the years. Not because I didn’t consider you a part of the family or didn’t love you.” She hesitates. “Your mother is … difficult.”
“No, really?”
We both laugh.
“I figured that’s what it was,” I admit. “That you kept your distance because of her. But I’m not her. And I’m not like her. At all.”
“You’re not,” Nia confirms. “But there is much you don’t know, chérie. When your father and I became lovers—”
I choke on another laugh. “Please don’t say it like that.”
“What should I say then?”
“Say … got together.”
Her eyes sparkle. “When your father and I got together, your mother was very unhappy. She didn’t have nice things to say to me, or about me, at the beginning. There were many warnings, including what would happen if I tried to take her daughter from her or speak badly of her when you were around. There was a meeting with the judge—”
Shock slams into me.
“She was threatening to take away your father’s visitation.” Nia sighs. “You were twelve when Clayton and I got together, and she told the judge she didn’t want her ex-husband’s bimbo—I had to look up that word in the dictionary—she didn’t want me brainwashing her daughter into hating her. There was a mediation session, and for the first year I wasn’t even allowed to be alone with you.”