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“Mom, Grace, and I are married.”
I spoke for the first time. Before she could. Before her words made this sour taste in my mouth intensify. “It’s nice to see you, Joyce. I mean Mrs. Kent.”
I extended my hand, and she stared at it with disgust, as if bugs or slime covered it. Like it would be abhorrent to touch me. Her smile was tight as she assessed me, from my bare feet to my hair falling from its twist. “I’m sure it is.”
“Mom.” Vander’s tone warned. “I know, Grace and I marrying is…” My gaze connected with his. My breath caught in my lungs as I waited for him to finish the sentence.
It’s what? Insane? Wrong? A lie?
“Unusual.” His words left me feeling cold. “But I’ve cared for Grace for a while now. And I realized I couldn’t let her go.”
He’s what? Cared for me? I don’t believe it. He was feeding his mother lies to make it easier on her.
“For a long time?” Her mouth pinched. “Your brother has only been gone a year. Seems quick to remarry.” Her stony gaze focused on me, chilling my insides. “Anyone.”
I withered under her scrutiny. This marriage wasn’t my idea. Or even something I wanted. But I couldn’t help feeling shame. The same feelings Mitchell had always elicited in me.
My shoulders rounded as I turned in on myself. As I felt myself emptying. Losing any of the warmth or comfort Vander and our breakfasts together provided.
It was a stupid habit. One I pretended to hate. Honestly, I relished our shared moment.
Watching him move around the kitchen. Seeing all his muscles ripple and bulge. The smile on his face as he fed me.
With each day, I learned something new about him as we made quiet conversation over the meal he’d prepared. Some days, this was the only time I saw him, like he had said. And now our little ritual was being ruined. Tainted by a past that was feeling present.
“Did you come here to give us opinions we didn’t ask for, or was there an actual point behind your visit?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, waiting to see how she would react to Vander’s harsh words. Her relationship with Mitchell had always been sweet and cordial. He was a mamma’s boy. Caving to her demands and whims. I’d been grateful when she’d moved a few years into our marriage.
“I missed my son and wanted to get to know his wife.”
“Then please do. You can even stay here.”
My heart sank. Of course, Vander would be the same. He’d give her anything she wanted.
I didn’t want her in my house. Didn’t want to feel inferior when she walk around like a model in a magazine. Didn’t want to hear her opinions on my clothes, my hair, my smile.
Stuff like that had never mattered to me until it meant my safety. I was an extension of Mitchell, the Kents. I needed to look good when I represented them. And if I didn’t, my punishment was swift.
“No, that’s fine. I’ll just stay in your old place.” Vander followed as she headed towards the door again. He helped her into her coat. “It’s been empty for what? A year now?”
The judgment was thick in her tone. Her eyes pierced me. Gleamed with disregard and dislike. I knew what she thought. She used to whisper it in my ear at dinners. Say it to my face when she got drunk at parties.
I wasn’t good enough for Mitchell. I would never reach his greatness. Lies about me tricking him into marrying me.
I suppose she felt the same way about Vander.
“Mom.” He pinched between his brows. When his hand came down, it twitched towards his pocket like he wanted to pull the knife he always carried. The knife twirling habit freaked me out. I thought it was an intimidation tactic. But now I saw it as a nervous tick. “I was helping Grace through a hard time.”
“I’m sure.” She grabbed her handbag. “The comfort of someone’s arms can be helpful.”
“That’s enough!”
My chair rattled as Vander’s sudden shout made me jump. It sent my heart slamming into my ribs.
I waited for him to turn his rage-filled gaze on me. For him to agree with her and kick me out of his house. Why did I suddenly hate the idea when I’d craved it only a few weeks ago?
Instead, he kept his angry eyes on his mother. “Grace is my wife! She will get the respect that title deserves. Not your veiled comments or false opinions. If you can’t do that, then you might as well turn around and hop on the first flight back to your condo.”
