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I calledKathleen and told her everything. Told her that it was all my fault, the deal falling through, that I was a horrible fake wife. I also told her that the man who was at her house the other night for dinner was the real Silas. Honest. Kind. Funny. Caring. I left out sexy, but she was a woman and she had eyes.
While I didn’t hold the Steaming Hotties t-shirts for her and her daughters hostage, I pretty much implied that I didn’t give them to those who couldn’t see Silas was the real deal. And that extended to her husband, too.
If Mr. Hyport needed a little incentive, I offered my trust fund to sweeten the pot. While I needed the money to keep the coffee shop going, getting a hold of it had never really been about that all along. It had been about taking charge of what was mine. Of being free from my father–and then Cheney–who never gave me value. Who never cared for me.
When Kathleen told me the deal was worth billions, I felt like a fool for my measly add-on.
After I hung up, I knew I’d been right to offer it. Silas deserved the Hyport deal. Deep down I knew he really wasn’t like Cheney and my father. Or his. He didn’t screw people over.
We were very similar, Silas and I. We never knew what real love was until it pretty much kicked us in the teeth.
And now I was alone. I had my money. I had exactly what I’d wanted all along and I didn’t care. I’d accused Silas of some pretty mean things. I definitely hit one of his triggers and I didn’t blame him if he hated me.
It hurt like hell, but it was my own stupid fault. It was time to get my own shit together. To face my parents and let go once and for all.
That was why when my mother texted reminding me of the party and that pearls would look best with the green velvet, I decided to go. I wasn’t caught up with hope that my parents would be anything but what they were. That Cheney would be anything besides a dick.
I was in my bedroom, staring at the velvet dress my mother brought over. I’d slung it over the back of the chair in my bedroom and forgotten about it.
The dress was beautiful, but not me. It was stuffy. Fancy. And I didn’t think I could ever wear pearls again. I turned from it and went to my closet. She bought it with the intention of me wearing it for Cheney. No,withCheney. I could only imagine what a green velvet tie looked like if he had one that matched. Maybe it was just the same shade of green. Or plaid. Or…
Who cared? Not me.
I was married, without a husband. I needed to reinforce with Cheney, and my parents… and everyone at the country club, that I’d moved on from them. That I wasn’t under my parents’ control. Or Cheney’s. That I wasn’t closing Steaming Hotties.
I had to make a stand finally.
I grabbed a black sequin jumpsuit I bought on clearance from an online shop. I’d loved it in the catalog and bought it last year on a whim. I’d never worn it, but this was the perfect time.
I slipped it on, worked the zipper up in the back and stood in front of the mirror.
Smiled.
I loved it. The high neck, the slight puff to the sleeves, the straight legs. Hell, it had pockets.
It was dressy, but fun.
My mother was going to hate it because it was pants. PANTS at a party. And sequins. God forbid!
I couldn’t help but grin.
I found black heels and accessorized with gold hoop earrings and bright red lipstick.
Forty-five minutes later, when I handed my keys to the valet at the club, I lost a little bit of my nerve and, after getting my ticket from coat check, ducked into the ladies’ room. Stared at myself in the mirror, just like I had forever ago when I went for the interview for the James Corp loan.
I laughed to myself. Where would I be now if I’d just taken that money? If I hadn’t put a financial value on love?
“There you are,” my mother said, poking her head into the bathroom, then did a double take. “Whatareyou wearing?”
And just like that, I was fine. Better than fine. I saw my mother clearer now. Compared her to Kathleen and how she’d welcomed me into her home. Had me fill glasses with ice within five minutes as if I wasn’t a guest, but an old friend.
I rolled my shoulders back. “You look lovely, Mother. That color suits you.”
She stepped back to let me exit the bathroom, then guided me toward the party. The sounds of voices and music, the scent of roasting meat carried down the hall.
“What is this about you being married? Cheney mentioned it the other day and I couldn’t imagine he was correct.”
I pasted on a smile. “It’s true. I did get married. Where’s Father? I assume Cheney is with him.”
