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My heart instantly sinks.No. She wouldn’t have done that.Cutting off my card means leaving me stranded, and I can’t imagine my mother would go that far, even if she’s angry. “Can you run it again, please?” I ask politely. “It must be an error.”
I can tell he’s not happy, but he does as I ask. And I feel my stomach clench with a sick twist when he comes back a few moments later, and shakes his head.
“I’m going to need another card, ma’am.”
“Just a second. I’ll call my bank. Maybe it’s the international transactions?” I fumble for my phone, feeling my cheeks heat. “Can you just charge it to my hotel while I get this straightened out?”
“Are you staying here?”
I shake my head.Fuck. A hot burst of resentment towards Claire fills me, for leaving me like this to go get laid. It would have been embarrassing to have this happen in front of her—and especially Jean—but she would have helped until I could get it straightened out. “No, I’m staying at—”
The waiter interrupts me, his voice curter now. “We can only charge to a room if you’re staying here, ma’am. If you don’t have another card—”
“Just let me call.” I turn my card over with shaking fingers, dialing the number of the bank. My throat tightens as I wait to speak to someone, and it only takes a few minutes for all my fears to be confirmed.
My card has been cut off.
“Ma’am—”
“Just aminute,” I hiss. “Can I have some privacy, please?” I’ve never been so rude to someone in my life, but I feel as if I’m about to have a panic attack, and the looming, disapproving expression on the waiter’s face is only making it worse. I tap my mother’s name in my contacts, trying to breathe as I wait for her to pick up.
“Amalie.” Her voice is smooth, as rich and elegant as ever. “I wondered how long it would take you to call.”
“What’s going on? You can’t do this. I’m not going to be able to get home—” I sound breathless, gasping, and I hate myself for it—for how panicked I feel. I want to be calm, to deal with this more maturely, but all I can feel right now is a crashing fear that I’m stranded. Claire might help with a meal, but I don’t know if I can rely on her to spot me for the rest of this trip and the flight home. Not that shecouldn’t—but her entire life is predicated on having friends who have money. I’ve never thought our friendship was anything but rock-solid—but I’ve neverneededher like this before. I don’t know what her response would be.
“Home from where, darling? Aren’t youathome?” The tone of my mother’s voice says quite clearly that she knows I’m not, and that she’s enjoying dragging this out.
“Since you cut off my card, I think you knowexactlywhere I am.” I can hear the seething tone in my voice. “Mom,please. Just turn it back on, and I’ll be home in a few days. You can be mad at me then. You can’tstrandme—”
“I most certainly can. Since you’ve decided to behave this way, you can ask your friends for help.” She pauses, allowing the dramatics to sink in. “Don’t think I don’t have some idea where you sneak off to all the time. I thought it might be alright to allow you a few small rebellions, just to get it out of your system before you got married. But clearly, I was too lenient.”
“Mom—” The panic wells up, sticking in my throat. “What am I supposed to do about meals? My part of the room—”
“I’m sure they’ll help you figure it out. They got you there, didn’t they? Now, I have to go—”
“I—”
“Enjoy your vacation, Amalie.” The phone goes dead without another word, and I stare at it, acutely aware of the waiter still looking at me.
I try the bank again, trying to convince them that there’s been an error and that the card should be turned back on, but nothing works. I dimly hear the waiter saying that he’s going to go and get the manager, and hot, humiliated tears well up in my eyes.
I’m going to have to text Claire. I’m going to have to ask her to come back and help me. The shame of it, piled on top of everything else that’s happened in the past months, feels like too much to bear.
I didn’t cry when I found out my father was dead. I didn’t cry when my brother was shipped off to Sicily to learn a lesson. And I didn’t cry when my mother told me that I was still going to be expected to marry for the good of the family—that it might be our only saving grace, now.
But all at once, hot tears well up, and I can’t hold it back any longer. They spill over, my entire body shuddering with a gasp, and I burst into tears right there at the table.
Just as I hear a voice ask behind me, with a dry sort of amusement—
“Are the mimosas here reallythatbad?”
6
DAVID
The joke might have been in poor taste. But I couldn’t help it. It’s felt as if Amalie has been tormenting me for days—managing to be at every party hot spot that I’ve ended up at, flirting with every handsome man who so much as says hello to her as if to spite me on purpose. And now I’ve shown up just in time to see her—for some reason I can’t possibly fathom—sobbing out in the open alone at a table.
Part of me thinks I shouldn’t get involved at all. She clearly didn’t appreciate my intrusion before, when I pulled that asshole off of her that had his hand up her skirt. She hasn’t spoken to me since, even though Iknowshe’s seen that we’ve been at the same places. And if my guesses are correct, she’s been trying to make me jealous on purpose.
