Page 30 of Wilting Violets


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“No one,” Colby grinned. “Because I know you don’t have anything going on with anyone wearin’ a patch. But you know, if you did, that particular person would be out on a run. Not due back until next week.”

My body sagged with disappointment and relief as I took a long pull of my beer. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh,” he muttered. Luckily, he didn’t push it further.

He was gone. The week I was back from college. It had to be by design. Maybe it had nothing to do with me. Maybe I was nothing to him.

Except he called me when it rained.

“I can’t believe you designed this!” Mom yelled, looking around the room.

I jumped out of my thoughts and back into the room with my mother. My mother who was beaming, wearing a burnt orange dress that showed off her tiny baby bump.

“Mom, I didn’t design all of this,” I argued. “There were things the contractors had to change because I’m not actually a qualified architect.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Caroline put in from her spot beside me. “You’re designing our house when we renovate.”

“You just renovated,” Macy snapped, walking from the bar area with a glass of champagne.

Her, Caroline and Freya were all here to help Mom out since she couldn’t do any heavy lifting. Except every man in the club was doing the heavy lifting, and we were just moving chairs around and gossiping.

“I want you to do my place,” Macy said.

“I really am not qualified,” I told them all.

“Bullshit,” she replied. Yep, my mom cursed now. “You did all of this, and you know it.” Her eyes watered. “You’re so talented, Violet. I can’t wait to see what you do with your life.”

Caroline, Freya and Macy all exchanged looks then made their way back toward the kitchen, whispering about sneaking some appetizers to give Mom her moment.

Though it was a wonderful thing for my mother to say, the words scraped against my skin. She said things like that whenever I spoke to her. How excited she was about my future. All the great things I would do. Like there were still plans for me. Like I should keep going down the road my father had forced us down.

I shook those thoughts off and regarded the space.

I’d wanted warmth. Wanted it to compliment the New Mexico landscape. The walls were rough plaster, full of texture and painted a warm beige. There was a huge arch separating the bar area and the dining area. The tables were round, reclaimed wood, the chairs plush and comfortable. There was greenery everywhere including hanging plants. The light fixtures were vintage chandeliers, mismatched to give the space a unique look. I’d kept the exposed beams of the roof, the windows looking out toward the desert.

“Okay, it looks great. And I could use this for my final project,” I agreed.

Mom pulled me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

I leaned into the hug, seconds away from falling apart in my mother’s arms.

“Countess,” a gruff voice barked from the entrance.

Mom let me go, and we both looked to Swiss who was examining us with his arms folded across his chest.

“Uh-oh,” my mom murmured. “I obviously lifted something I shouldn’t.” She grinned and kissed me on the cheek before walking toward her husband.

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” she snapped at him with faux annoyance.

I watched them bicker until Swiss yanked her in for a kiss I probably shouldn’t have witnessed.

That was when I started thinking about things I shouldn’t. Like Elden. Like why my father was so evil.

That was also when I made my way over to the bar and poured myself a glass of champagne that Freya had already opened. Though drinking myself into oblivion was a bad plan, at least it was a plan.

The opening was a huge success.

The food was amazing, the company was better only because the company was my new family, and the wine was great. I may have been overserved. Or overserved myself.

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