Page 165 of Power Play

“Charmagne?”

“Just a second!”

I grabbed the blanket first and folded it over the back of the couch before realizing one of the coffee cups had left a faint ring on the table. I picked up both cups, carried them toward the kitchen, noticed the fashion magazines weren’t stacked evenly, and doubled back to straighten them before remembering my mother was still standing outside.

“Charm?”

“I’m coming!”

I shoved the mugs into the sink, wiped the table with the sleeve of my robe, and stopped in the center of the apartment because the Spanish notebook was still open.

Ryan’s name wasn’t written anywhere on the page, but it felt like evidence anyway.

I closed it, hated myself for doing that, and immediately opened it again.

My mother knocked a third time.

I dragged a hand over my hair, tightened the robe around my waist, and opened the door wearing the smile I had learned years ago to produce before I was ready.

“Mom.”

Crystal kissed my cheek as she came inside. “I was nearby and thought I would surprise you.”

“You definitely did.”

She smiled and walked farther into the apartment while I closed the door behind her. Her eyes moved around the room, and that was all it took for every explanation to start spilling from my mouth.

“I was studying late last night. Brown assigned a ridiculous amount this week, and I haven’t showered yet because I wanted to finish the reading first. I normally don’t leave coffee cups sitting out, and the blanket only fell because I was—”

“Charmagne.”

I stopped.

My mother looked confused. “You don’t need to explain your blanket.”

I stared at her while Crystal walked toward the couch and picked up one of the magazines.

“I thought perhaps we could have lunch. There’s a new place downtown I’ve been wanting to try, and your father has meetings all afternoon.”

She kept talking, but I barely heard her because I was looking around my apartment instead.

The blanket was folded. Two cups sat in the sink. Books covered the coffee table because I had been reading them.

Nothing was wrong.

My mother hadn’t complained. She hadn’t criticized my robe, the apartment, my hair, or the fact that I wasn’t prepared to receive an unexpected visitor at eleven in the morning.

I had performed the entire panic for her before she had the opportunity to say anything.

The understanding moved through me so sharply that my stomach turned.

Ryan’s voice returned with humiliating clarity.

You’re constantly watching everybody else for signs that you fucked something up.

I looked down at my robe and imagined what would have happened if Ryan had shown up without warning and found me exactly like this.

He would have taken one look at the robe and smiled. Then he would have walked straight across the apartment, put his hands around my waist, and kissed me before I could explain why my hair was a mess.