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“No?” She flips open the magazine when I make no attempt to take it, skimming through it until she finds the page she wants. She bends the magazine in half and turns it outward so that I can see the page she’s stopped on. “Because from where I’m standing, between this, and what I just walked in on, it’s exactly what it looks like.”
When my eyes finally glance down at the outturned magazine, what I see isn’t exactly what I had expected. Because it’s not the pictures from our first dinner staring back at me. No, it’s pictures I’ve never seen before, of Treyton and me at the little sandwich shop down the street. The one he had close down so we could eat in peace.
Well, turns out we weren’t really left in peace at all, because someone was snapping pictures of us through the window. And what’s worse, they captured the one and only thing that could be misconstrued as anything more than lunch, the moment Treyton’s hand settled on top of mine.
The way we’re looking at each other… It’s like everything I was feeling in that moment was written all over my face. I shudder to think that I’m that transparent, yet the proof is right in front of me. And what’s worse, now my mother knows.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is soft, pleading even. As if to say,please don’t repeat my mistakes. “And don’t say he’s just one of your clients. A meal where some paparazzi snapped some picture of you could maybe be explained away. But that’s twice now you’ve been photographed with him and then for me to find him here… I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. There really isn’t anything going on.”
“Have my mistakes taught you nothing?”
For some reason, her words hit a sour note with me. Maybe because I’m so sick of trying to prove I’m not like her because I’m actually not. There is one key factor she seems to be forgetting… I’m not married.
“Youcheated on my father. Me becoming friends with a famous client is not the same thing.”
“Friends… Is that what you’re telling yourself?”
“What does it matter? I’m single. He’s single. What would we really be hurting if we were more than friends? No one would be cheating.”
I have no idea where this is coming from or why. Maybe I’m tired of living by my parents’ rule. I’m a grown ass woman who can make her own choices, yet I base life decisions off of how my parents will feel about them. It shouldn’t be that way.
“Are you trying to break your father’s heart for a second time?”
I want to ball up her words and throw them straight at her face.
“I wouldn’t have to worry about it if you hadn’t broken it to begin with.”
“Maybe not, but can you imagine his reaction when he sees this?” She waves the magazine.
“I’m sure you’re going to run home and show him the instant you leave here. Try and prove that I’m no better than you.”
Again, I have no idea what’s gotten into me. I never talk to my mom like this. Or at least, I haven’t in a very long time.
“I wouldn’t do that. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying tohelpyou. You saw what I went through. Men like that…” She gestures toward the door Treyton exited through minutes ago. “They are not capable of loving you back.”
“I never said I loved him. Or that I want his love,” I argue. “I’ve known him a whopping four days.”
“I knew after one.” She doesn’t need to clarify, I know what she’s saying. She loved Bronson the first time she met him. But really, can you love someone that quickly? I’m not so convinced. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling something… But love? I shake my head.
“You can’t control everything, Clarke,” she continues after a long pause. “Especially not your heart. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m tougher than you give me credit for.”
“Being tough has nothing to do with it. Even you are not immune to a broken heart.”
“Why are you so sure he’ll break my heart? Or that I’ll give him the chance to?”
“Because it’s already happening. I can see it all over your face. You care for him.”
“Caring for him doesn’t equate to wanting to marry him, or have his babies.” I throw my hands up, exasperated.
“Give it time,” she warns.
“You know, men and women are capable of having a relationship that doesn’t involve them jumping into bed, or falling madly in love with each other.” My nostrils flare.
“Then why are you getting so defensive?”
