“Thousands of them.” Skye seemed to relish the reply. “Millions. Come in.”
Jameson stayed outside the doors. “Are you decent?”
“I like to think so,” his mother called back. “At least a good fifty percent of the time.”
Jameson pushed the bathroom door inward, and I was greeted by the sight of the biggest bathtub I’d ever seen in my life, sitting up on a dais. I focused on the tub’s claw-feet—gold, to match the moldings in the hallway—and not the woman currently in the bathtub.
“You said you were decent.” Jameson did not sound surprised.
“I’m covered in bubbles,” Skye replied airily. “It doesn’t get any more decent than that. Now, tell your mother what you need.”
Jameson glanced back at me, as if to sayand you asked why I needed the bourbon.
“I’ll stay out here,” I said, turning around before I caught sight of more than bubbles.
“Oh, don’t be a prude, Abigail,” Skye admonished from inside the bathroom. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we? I make it a policy to befriend everyone who steals my birthright.”
I’d never seen passive aggression quite like this.
“If you’re done messing withAvery,” Jameson interjected, “I’d like to have a little chat.”
“So serious, Jamie?” Skye sighed audibly. “Well, go on, then.”
“My middle name. I’ve asked you before if I was named after my father.”
Skye was quiet for a moment. “Hand me my champagne, would you?”
I heard Jameson moving around in the bathroom behind me—presumably, fetching her champagne. “Well?” he asked.
“If you’d been a girl,” Skye said, with the air of a bard, “I would have named you after myself. Skylar, perhaps. Or Skyla.” She took what I could only assume was a sip of champagne. “Toby was named for my father, you know.”
The mention of her long-gone brother caught my attention. I didn’t know how or why, but Toby’s death had somehow started this all.
“My middle name,” Jameson reminded her. “Where did you get it?”
“I’d be happy to answer your question, darling.” Skye paused. “Just as soon as you give me a moment alone with your delightful little friend.”
CHAPTER 39
If I’d known I was going to end up in a one-on-one conversation with a naked, bubble-covered Skye Hawthorne, I probably would have had some bourbon myself.
“Negative emotions age you.” Skye shifted her position in the tub, causing water to slosh against the sides. “There’s only so much one can do with Mercury in retrograde, but…” She let out a long, theatrical breath. “I forgive you, Avery Grambs.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” I responded.
She proceeded as if she had not heard me. “You will, of course, continue to provide me a modest amount of financial support.”
I was starting to wonder if this woman was legitimately living on a different planet.
“Why would I give you anything?”
I expected a sharp comeback, but all I got was an indulgent little hum, likeIwas the one being ridiculous here.
“If you’re not going to answer Jameson’s question,” I said, “then I’m leaving.”
She let me get halfway to the door. “You’ll support me,” she said lightly, “because I’m their mother. And I will answer your question as soon as you answer mine. What are your intentions toward myson?”
“Excuse me?” I turned to face her before I remembered, a second too late, why I’d been tryingnotto look at her the entire time I’d been in the room.
