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The drinks are on the table when Kathryn breezes through the door, fashionably late, and I see her immediately, as she’s wearing an off-white dress with turquoise cowboy boots. She flips her long black flowing hair and smiles, which turns heads, her presence shifting the mood of the room. She shares a laugh with the hostess, who points her back to where we’re sitting. As articles have said, Kathryn’s larger than life.
She approaches us, smiling ear to ear, and when I stand to shake her hand, she pulls me into a hug. Her perfume of vanilla and blueberries hits my nose, but it’s not overly strong. “Riley. It’s wonderful to meet you in person.”
I pull away and dial up my smile. “It’s so nice to meet you too.”
“And look at this hair. It’s like spun silk.” She fingers a lock, and I tense. My mother uses this trick—the one where you connect to somebody by touching them and complimenting them. It’s very charming. It can also be very manipulative.
“Thank you,” I say politely, then scoot back into my seat.
Kathryn gives Maddox a hearty hug and is more emotional when she says, “I’ve missed you.”
It sounds like she means her words, and I’m guessing she does. My mom means those things when she says them too. The problem is that Mom can’t help herself when something shinier or brighter comes along. She can’t stop herself from chasing the next big thing—the must-attend real estate conference that falls on my birthday. The all-important work trip she has to go on instead of attending my school play—even at the cost of ruining the relationships with the people who care about her most.
Maddox’s jaw is tense, and his signature casualness is gone. “Glad you could make it, Kathryn.”
Okay, so he doesn’t call her mom, and he didn’t say he misses her too. Kathryn sits directly in front of me, and when I look at her, I don’t see any obvious physical similarities to Maddox. He got his eyes, nose, and lips from his dad. With that said, as I watch her move, I recognize some of the same mannerisms—that air of having the world in the palm of her hands—and I know where Maddox got his untouchable charisma.
“Riley,” Kathryn says. “I’ve watched every episode ofUrban Dawn.You have this way about you that makes viewers feel like we know you—that you’re our friend. That’s a gift.”
I smile, the tension building on my shoulders at her flattery. She’s good; she can see what I work hard at doing—baring my soul on-screen so my vulnerability makes up for my lack of experience. I’m unnerved but put on my best face for Maddox.“Wow, thank you,” I say, my voice quiet. “I can’t think of a higher compliment.”
Kathryn reaches out for my hand and looks deep into my eyes with an understanding I hadn’t expected. She squeezes and says softly, “Look, I know the media is trying to eat you alive. And it will, if you let it. So if you ever need to talk to someone who’s been through it, I’m here.”
I exhale a breath, and my shoulders relax with it. Itwouldbe nice to talk to someone who’s been here. Really nice, and I don’t want to admit how much I need that right now—maybe even to myself. But, as tempting as her offer is, I don’t know her. Also, I don’t trust her, and I don’t understand her motives. “I really appreciate that,” I say, because I do.
“So Kathryn, what’s up with you?” Maddox says, clearly aching to shift the topic.
“My tour ended. It was my last one.”
“Why the last?” Maddox’s voice has an edge.
“I don’t want to live out of a suitcase anymore. I miss you. I miss home.” Her face crumples. “I know this sounds like a line, Maddox, but I’ve changed.”
He barks out a humorless laugh, his stare frosty. “Okay. We’re skipping the small talk.”
“I don’t have much time. Don’t think I don’t know I have from now until you finish your whiskey sour to plead my case.”
Yikes. Nailed it.
Her eyes beg. “I don’t expect you to believe me right now, Maddie.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry. Old habits. I just want you to give me another chance. That’s all.” When the table lulls to a silence, Kathryn says, “Please talk to me.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you.” Maddox’s tone is acid. “You want me to give you a chance—like the one I gave you when you left Dad,and you promised nothing would change between you and me? Except I didn’t see you for a year, and I was only five years old. Or how about when I was seven, and you disappeared from of our lives for good?” His face goes lifeless. “So, why should I give you another chance?”
“Because I’ve spent thirty years regretting what I’ve done. You have no idea what I’ve been through—“
“You? Whatyou’vebeen through?“ Maddox scoffs. “What about me? I was a child.”
I place my hand on Maddox’s back, concerned. I know these moments are gutting.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and I realize the only person at this table who’s taken a drink is me.
“I wasn’t okay.” Her voice wobbles. “Maddox, please. You know what your dad did to me after the divorce.”
It seems likenowwould be the moment I’m uncomfortable. The tension should be spreading down my spine. But it’s the opposite. Fake pretenses and pleasantries make me squirm. But this? The real, raw words of a strained relationship? It’s soothing to my soul. It’s what I’ve spent a lifetime yearning for from my mother—for us to take the gloves off and have a bludgeoning conversation. One she won’t have, which is why our wounds can’t heal because she won’t expose them and give them oxygen.
