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“Aren’t you going to give me a hug? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth gaping wide.” She makes a tsking sound with her tongue. “Most unattractive, Carina.”
I snap it shut and grit my teeth before forcing my feet into movement. She rises gracefully from the chair before extending her arms. I wrap mine loosely around her, wishing it didn’t feel so awkward. It’s like embracing a stranger.
She’s thinner than the last time I saw her.
Or she’s had work done.
Possibly both.
I’m sure Crawford would know since he foots the bill for everything. A mixture of shame and guilt pricks at me as that snide thought pops into my head. I’ve heard the ugly whispers that she married Crawford solely for his money and is nothing more than a gold digger.
She’s heard the ugly rumors, too.
Instead of being embarrassed when people talk loud enough for her to overhear, she’ll smile brightly and raise a crystal flute of champagne before bringing it to her lips and downing the bubbly contents.
It’s the reason I insisted on getting a part-time job at the dance studio when I was a junior in high school. When I went away to college, I quickly found another studio to work at near campus. Even though I barely make enough to buy groceries each week, it’s at least some small contribution.
No one can claim that I’m sponging off Crawford.
Deep down inside, I don’t want him to think that I’ve stuck around all these years in order to mooch off him. I’ve told him on more than one occasion that I’d be happy to take out loans for college, but he insists I use the fund he set up as soon as he married Mom.
Relief washes over me once I untangle myself from her and take a hasty step in retreat. A cloud of Christian Dior perfume clings to me.
Her gaze shifts to her ex-stepson and she ups the wattage of her smile. “Ford, you’re looking handsome as ever.”
He gives her a quick peck on the cheek before taking up sentinel beside me. I have no idea how he understands that I need his emotional support now more than ever.
“It’s good to see you, Pamela.” There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “I didn’t realize you were in town.”
She beams as her gaze slices to Crawford. The intimate look they share has my belly erupting with fresh nerves.
“We were going to make an announcement over dessert, but why wait?” he says, voice brimming with excitement. He cuts across the thick wool rug to where Mom stands before slipping his arm around her waist and dropping a light kiss against the crown of her head. “Pamela and I have been seeing each other for about a month now and we’ve decided to give our relationship another shot.”
My wide eyes dart to Mom in shock. The calculating gleam that fills hers never wavers.
When I remain silent, my brain cartwheeling, she asks, “Aren’t you happy for us, Carina?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ford
My fingers clench the leather steering wheel as we speed back to campus.
After Dad dropped his bomb, dinner turned out to be an awkward affair.
Throughout the hour-long production, I watched Carina withdraw into herself, toying with her food and barely contributing to the conversation. Immediately afterward, she shoved away from the table, saying that she needed to practice her solo for the showcase.
When Dad asked if she wanted dessert—tiramisu, her favorite—she shook her head and fled from the room as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.
The fact that she wouldn’t even glance in my direction only heightened my concern.
After demolishing the coffee-flavored sweet, I told them that I needed to use the john and never returned.
Not that they’d notice.
Or care.
Or maybe it would be accurate to say that Dad wouldn’t notice. Throughout dinner, he barely glanced away from his ex-wife. It’s as if she’s the sun he revolves around.
