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“I was wondering if I could get a ride to the store or a mall if you have one here. I’d like to pick up a few things.” I hate imposing, as Ken and Karen hate when I do that – which, if you listened to them, is done by something as necessary as me breathing – but I want to get this lovely family Christmas presents.
When I impulsively decided to pretend to be Aubrey Simcox, the only belongings I had were those I’d packed for a short getaway by myself.
I’ve gotten good at those, seeing as how I’m never invited on family vacations.
Blinking back tears when numerous hands shoot in the air, all vying for the opportunity to take me, I turn my head in case any escape.
My years with the Trudeaus have made me learn that showing any weakness is frowned upon. Mocked. Used as a weapon.
Gosh. Why do I still let them treat me as if I’m a mere hanger on?
A charity case.
I’m a grown woman with a great job that I love and a nice salary.
I don’t need them.
They obviously don’t need, or want, me.
I served my purpose as Andrea’s companion when we were younger.
As teenagers, her servant and favorite target for her temper.
In our twenties, she basically pretends I don’t exist unless she needs me to do something for her.
My phone vibrates in my hand, the ringer off because nobody really calls me, and those who do I tend not to want to talk to as any and all work communication is done via email.
Ken.
Karen.
Andrea.
“I’ll take her,” Carson’s voice is strong. Final.
Honestly, I wouldn’t have been upset at a chance to spend more time with any of them. But knowing it’ll be just be the two of us has me a bit lightheaded.
“I, uh, I’ll get my purse.” Way to stammer, Aud. That’s how to impress a man such as Carson.
“No rush,” he assures me. “You’re worth waiting for.” Turning to see if he said what I think he did, I flush when he winks at me. As if he’s verifying that I heard correctly.
Hurrying toward my room, I close the door and lean against it, needing a moment to catch my breath. He’s so potent he should come with a warning stating he’s dangerous in anything but small intervals.
My hand shakes and I lift it to my face, in awe he has that much of an impact on me.
Until I realize it’s my cell vibrating again.
Resigned to be put in my place, even from a thousand miles away where they are on the beach, I answer, “Hello.”
“You know I hate waiting,” Andrea unnecessarily reminds me. “My time is precious.” The difference in someone who is, for all intents and purposes, my family flat out informing me I’m not worth it when a man I’ve known for less than a week says otherwise is a painful reminder of how little the Trudeaus care for me.
When they even deign to think of me.
Spoiler alert. It’s not often.
Andrea was told once that when you learn something new you get a corresponding wrinkle in your brain. She feared it would make her look old.
Do not ask me how the two are related.
