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A memory unfolds in the back of my mind—something about Elliot saying they closed their relationship because they didn’t have the energy or time to give to other partners. Maybe itisthe same way with their friendships. There’s no denying that their revenge plans have overtaken their life in every way possible.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Ava:Are you coming back to work soon?
I type out a vague reply before deleting it. Ava deserves as much of the truth as I can give her.
Wren:I’m quitting. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person, and I know it’s out of the blue.
Ava:WHAT??? What’s going on? Are you sure everything is okay?
Wren:Everything’s fine, my life just took a couple unexpected turns. I promise I’ll see you as soon as I can and explain everything.
Ava:Is this because of the guys? Are they making you quit?
Wren:No! They’re supportive either way.
Ava:Okay. They didn’t give shitbag vibes, but I wasn’t sure.
Wren:Everything should calm down in a week or so, and then you and I can get together, okay?
Ava:All right. If you need anything, I’m just a text away, okay?
I send a heart emoji and then close out my messaging app. However much I want to, I need to get this conversation with my mom over with. My chest tightens as I finally press the call button. As I wait for her to pick up, I tap my fingers against my knee.
Please don’t answer. Please don’t answer. Please—
“Wren!Finally,you have some time to talk to your mother.”
“I was busy. Do you need something?”
I’m not usually so blunt, but she lost her right to civility from me. Besides, I want to get back to the guys. Elliot suggested watching a movie before bed, and that sounds like a lovely way to end his birthday. I didn’t want this call hanging over me all night, so they’re waiting on me.
“Am I not allowed to call just to talk to my daughter?”
Maybe you shouldn’t have that privilege.I bite my tongue before the words accidentally slip out. “I suppose.”
As expected, Patricia scoffs. “Yousuppose?I’m your mother! Why is it so hard for you to give me a few minutes of your time here and there?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” There’s not enough time—nor is it a conversation I’m particularly looking forward to having.
“Wren Marie, you’ve been avoiding me for weeks! Do Tom and I need to come back to Philadelphiaagainjust to get you to talk to us?”
“No,” I blurt too loudly. The guys definitely heard that. After a deep breath, I level my voice. “It was bad enough that you brought him along for that god-awful intervention. What part of me saying I never want to see Thomas again do you not understand?”
I can practically hear my mom rolling her eyes as she says, “Honestly? All of it. There’s no reason for you to feel unsafe around him. You hit your head, and your brain came up with a story it thought made sense. I wish you’d stop trying to turn me against him.”
The same white-hot fury I felt all those years ago courses through me again, like it’s always been there, just waiting to resurface. “I didn’t misremember,” I grit out.
She sighs. “Don’t you think it’s time to let this go? It’s been years.”
“He hurt me,” I seethe as my free hand curls into a fist. My fingernails dig into my palm, but I barely notice the bite of pain. “Why would I let that go? Why would you even ask that of me?”
“Honey,” she says, and the odd mix of condescension and mock pity in her voice sends chills through me. “You were young. You had a lot of anger toward Thomas, and you let it all build up. I understand we weren’t perfect parents, but lying to drag him down is ridiculous. You should be more mature than this by now.”
“Which one is it?” I reply dryly. “Did I hit my head and misremember, or did I intentionally lie?”
“Well, why don’t you tell me?”
