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I sit back in my seat and take a sip of my whiskey. There’s something in Adeline’s voice now that I’ve not heard before. Vulnerability and openness.
She’s always closed off with me. Watchful and ready to defend at all times. I understood why to begin with, but I hadn’t expected it to continue on like it has. I thought once we signed off on the marriage contract, we’d settle into a working relationship of some sort. That has not been the case, and Adeline has refused to lower her walls around me.
“Have you spoken with her about your desire to be closer?” Mom asks.
“When I was younger, yes. I’ve given up now.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, her voice wobbles in a very unlike-Adeline way. “My mother uses me, Reese. She was the one who pushed me into modeling when I was sixteen. She saw dollar signs and a way for her to fill her bank account. She didn’t care what I had to go through to reach the top; she just pushed me until I got there. Now, she’s still reaping the rewards. I’ve reached the point where I see her for who she truly is, and I don’t think I want the kind of relationship with her that I once did.”
Heartbreak fills my mother’s eyes. She’s one of the most empathetic people I know. “Yes,” she says softly, “I imagine you don’t.”
Adeline shares a moment with her before finally saying, “Thank you. Not many people understand when a person says they don’t want a relationship with their parent.”
Mom squeezes her hand. “I know.” She lets Adeline’s hand go and looks at me. “Right, let’s eat. And while we do that, you and Hudson can tell us girls what the plans will be for Super Bowl.”
Hudson picks up his taco. “I presume they’ll be what they always are.”
“What’s that?” Adeline asks.
“We usually gather at Jameson’s for a party,” Hudson says, “so prepare yourself now for the onslaught, because when I say party, I’m talking a lot of people in your place.”
“I prefer to go to the game. You guys can have the penthouse to yourself,” Adeline says.
Hudson whistles low. “Yeah, I don’t think it works like that, Addy.”
“Like what?” she says.
“We’re not going to the game,” I say.
“Jameson prefers to watch it at home,” Hudson says.
Adeline smiles sweetly at me after eating some of her taco. “He can watch it at home.”
My eyes bore into hers, holding a warning that this discussion needs to come to an end. This is the kind of conversation that will require negotiations in private. “We’ll watch it at home.”
“I think it would be fun to go to the game,” Mom says. “Can you still get tickets?”
“I have tickets,” Adeline says. “But if Jameson doesn’t want to go, I have people I can give them to.” She looks at me. “I don’t want us to fight over this. You know I hate fighting with you.”
“We’ll talk about this some more,” I say. I have no intention of going to the game, but I suspect Adeline has every intention of it.
“What I can tell you,” Hudson says as he finishes his taco, “is that you’ll enjoy the party if you don’t go to the game. Jameson mightn’t love crowds, but he knows how to throw one hell of a party.”
Mom nods her agreement. “He’s right, Adeline. It’s always a good time. And while he never allows me to help him and Shantel plan it, I’m sure he’ll let you.”
Hudson grins. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mom.”
“I think I’m with Hudson on this one,” Adeline says. “I love him dearly, but my husband is a control freak.”
Mom shifts the conversation after that, asking Adeline about fashion week and some of the ins and outs of her business. I listen attentively to everything she says, asking questions I’m interested to know the answer to. Adeline answers them easily. It’s the first conversation we’ve ever had that wasn’t hard and I find myself enjoying it. I get the impression Adeline does too.
After we finish eating and talking, Hudson and I stand to clear the table.
Mom shoos at Adeline when she stands to help. “Sit, darling. The boys will clean up.”
Adeline’s lips twitch as she looks at me. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard anyone refer to Jameson as a boy.”
The last thing I hear as I carry dishes into the kitchen is Adeline asking Mom to share stories with her about me as a boy. I’m not surprised to hear her ask this. She’s good at keeping up the pretense that she loves me. What I am surprised about is that she genuinely sounds interested.
Hudson and I clean up. We then spend another hour with Mom while she tells Adeline stories about our childhood. She skips the dark side of it and only shares fun stories. Adeline sits next to me on the sofa, her hand glued to my thigh, her body leaning against mine. I settle my arm across the back of the sofa behind her and concentrate on ignoring the sensations her touch is causing.
