“Of course. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.”
At that, my mother laughs. “Oh, please. Most of your days are spent doing things you don’t want to do. Now, just be honest. What was that stunt about? I’ve seen you with the other boy. You can’t tell me you wanted to be with LJ.”
I twist my hands into fist, pointing my knuckles to the floor. “No. What I want is to be nothing like you.”
Mom’s chin drops. She utters syllables, which come out faint and unintelligible.
“I’m done being your puppet,” I blurt before I lose my nerve. “I knew if I gave in, take your permission to skip out on LJ, I’d pay for it later.”
Mom huffs loudly, getting her voice back. “Can’t a mother do something nice for her daughter?”
“Not when she’s my mother.”
“Regardless, I need you by my side today.”
“What for?”
“I’m meeting with Naomi Fisher to fix the seating chart.”
“It doesn’t need fixing. It’s fine.”
“And since when has fine been good enough?”
I place my hand on my chest. “Why do you need me there? It was hard enough getting between you two when you weren’t here.”
“We need to present a stronger united front than when I was away.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Since when is that an excuse?”
I groan. “Just go without me.”
“Not an option, daughter. Now, get ready.”
My mind fills with expletives. I want to scream at her. Not to mention, I can’t stop thinking about where Dax has disappeared.
With the war of clashing thoughts in my head, my mother takes my stunned silence as submission. She leads me to my bedroom and forces me into her approved outfit.
So much for sticking up for myself. A headache has burrowed deep into my skull, and I find myself sitting in the country club dining room. Never has itfelt harder to feign interest with Mrs. Fisher. At least her youngest daughter, Meghan, has tagged along. Not that we’re given time to speak, but at least I’m not the only one rotting in boredom.
I check my phone. Still no text from Dax.
I messaged twice this morning, asking where he went. Then I sent a message, letting him know I’d left the manor and wanted to meet up with him.
Ugh. Why isn’t he replying? I thought everything was resolved last night.
Did he get a call from his brother? Was he lured back to the clubhouse?
I suck in a ragged breath as my stomach turns inside out.
“What do you think, Vanessa?” my mother asks. Her tone suggests she knows I wasn’t listening.
“About the Waterhouse and Hutchinson families being on the same table?” I ask, presuming we’re still on the same topic as when I tuned out.
My mother beams. “Yes, darling. Thoughts?”
“They deserve to be on the same table,” I say bluntly. “When they can’t be bothered to buy a whole table, there are consequences.”
