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Eileen offered me everything I needed to tick off on my list. Farrow offered me a countdown, and even that came with a hefty price tag.
“Mom.” I placed my hands on her arms, guiding her away, marveling at the fact that I could touch anyone without my knife as a barrier. “I’m sorry, but it would be unfair of me to give Eileen any hope that we can be anything more than acquaintances.”
“Please.” She pressed her hands together. Her bag flew to the floor, its contents spilling onto the ground like guts. She didn’t even notice. “Please, Zachary. Just give it one more chance. For your mom. For your auntie. For yourfather. He would have told you to at least try. You know he would.”
Tears spilled from her eyes. She seemed fragile in that moment—the same woman who’d bawled over my hospital bed before time mended my physical wounds and she’d slowly slipped away.
Mom hovered a palm over my cheek.
I closed my eyes, fighting the disgust it ignited in me. The intense nausea was now a dull discomfort, thanks to Farrow.
“Please, give Eileen a chance.” Mom squeezed my shoulder through my shirt, too focused on her goal to realize what she’d done. “I’ve booked you a weekend in the Hamptons. The house is ready. She’ll be there, waiting for you. Just try for me.”
I closed my eyes, realizing I needed Eileen to break this off for my mother to digest it.
Fine. I’d do the Hamptons.
But it wouldn’t end in wedding bells.
“If I do this,” I growled, “will you set me free?”
“Yes.” Mom clutched her handkerchief. “Yes, I promise.”
“Very well. The Hamptons it is.”
Ari:
Earth to Fae—please, send a sign of life.
Dallas:
Low-key tempted to hurl ass over there and see if she’s okay.
Dallas:
I haven’t heard from her in a while.
Ari:
Define a while.
Dallas:
Three hours.
Ari:
Hmm.
Ari:
I’ve had arguments about the best Milkis flavor that have lasted longer than that.
Dallas:
We’re kind of co-dependent right now.
Dallas:
