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All I can do is smile. My mother-in-law loves attention, while I prefer to hide in the shadows. I always have, even when I was a kid. Out of the four of us, I was the quiet one. The one who didn’t want to be noticed. I preferred it that way.
Until I didn’t. And then attention only got me in trouble.
Not anymore though. I bask in Perry’s adoration.
“Did you already order?” Caroline asks once she’s settled, reaching for Tinsley’s glass of water and taking a quick sip.
“Yes,” Tinsley answers. “But I know the waiter will rush back to take your order, so hold tight.”
Caroline contemplates me, her gaze assessing as it roves over my face before dropping. As if she’s trying to examine me with her eyes. “You look well. Better than you did at Thanksgiving.”
Tinsley jabs Caroline in the side with her elbow. “Mother! Stop being mean.”
“What? It’s the truth. I was worried for you, Charlotte. You were so pale and thin. Now you’re practically glowing.” Her tone is full of approval.
There’s that glowing word again. I totally agree. I feel like I’m glowing. And at Thanksgiving, I did look pale and thin. Caroline isn’t trying to be hurtful. She’s just stating facts.
“After what happened…” I let my voice drift and both Tinsley and Caroline give me sympathetic looks. “I had a difficult time bouncing back.”
“Perry is very patient,” Caroline says. “I’m sure he took good care of you during your time of need.”
“He did,” I say.
“Most likely to the point of hovering a bit too much,” she continues.
I can’t help but smile. “He was… overbearing sometimes.”
“The Constantine men can be.”
The server arrives and takes Caroline’s order before leaving us alone once again.
“Tell me, darling. I’m curious.” Caroline leans back against the seat, her lips curled into a small smile. “How long were you involved with Seamus McTiernan?”
I go quiet. So does Tinsley. I don’t want to talk about my ex-lover with my mother-in-law, but I’m sure Caroline isn’t going to give me much of a choice in avoiding the conversation.
“Not very long,” I finally say.
“Mother,” Tinsley says in warning, sending me a sympathetic look.
“What exactly does that mean? A couple of days? Weeks? Months?” Caroline’s brows shoot up as she waits for my reply.
I’m going to have to choose my words carefully. I don’t want to say the wrong thing, or give too much information. This is a topic my husband and I don’t discuss often. And when we do, he doesn’t want to hear the dirty details.
“A few months, if that,” I answer. “He was my professor. I was part of a study abroad program in Paris. He taught a class on the history of French architecture—specifically Parisian architecture.”
“Oh, do you want to be an architect?” Tinsley asks, most likely trying to change the subject.
“I still don’t know what I want to be. I definitely didn’t know then either.” I shrug, faintly embarrassed. I was raised not to worry about my future or a career. I’d make someone a great wife and mother someday. That’s all I amounted to with my family—specifically my father. He didn’t understand why I wanted to study French architecture and at the time, I didn’t really know why either.
I was just looking for something—anything—that piqued my interest.
“You’re still young,” Caroline says. “You don’t need to decide yet.”
“I’ve considered going to college. Applying to NYU or Columbia maybe? I’m not sure yet.” My goals sound so high, even to me. Could I get in? I have no idea. My grades were good in school, but I couldn’t wait to graduate. Even if I got into a college, would I enjoy it?
I’m not sure.
“You should,” Tinsley says. “Maybe you could figure out what you want to be then.”
