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“You know I have to go get my nails done and shit today, right?” she informs me as she puts a pair of black diamond studded earrings on.
I ball my hands into fists to keep myself from touching her. “I already talked to your mother. She’s having someone come here to do that.”
Her hands fall to her sides. “And what about tomorrow? You know I have to actually leave the house to attend the fate ceremony, right?
“We’re working on tracking down the person who put the hit on you,” I inform her. “We’ve gotten a few leads, and Ryder and Reece are with your dad trying to figure out which one of them is correct. Once we figure out the who, we’ll take care of it.”
“By take care of it, I assume you mean kill them.” She says it with disdain.
“It’s the only way to protect you.”
“End a life to protect a life. It all seems counterproductive if you ask me.”
I reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear again, because apparently, one touch has taken away all my self-control. “Sweetheart, the person who put the hit on you isn’t good. You are.”
“Maybe I’m not anymore.” When I stay silent, she adds, “You don’t know because you don’t know me anymore.”
I damn near roll my eyes. She can say whatever she wants—and maybe I don’t know her well anymore—but Allura will forever be a good person.
That’s the one certain truth that exists in this world of lies.
SEVENTEEN
ALLURA
My mother is acting weird, even for her. After she gets Jessa and I set up inside the library of my home, where we’re getting manicures and pedicures done, she gets a phone call, which isn’t the weird part. No, it’s how she bites her thumbnail when she notes the caller’s name on the screen.
It’s such a simple thing, chewing on a thumbnail, and yet it doesn’t fit her. She’s the kind of woman who never has a hair out of place, who always looks put together, and who is proper. So, watching her chew on her thumbnail is like seeing a unicorn. Only without the sparkling awe.
No, her demeanor is anxious and twitchy.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I lean back in the chair.
My feet are soaking while the women who are working on us have left to eat their lunch in the kitchen.
Jessa and I have our hair pulled up, our pant legs rolled up, and we’re sitting in chairs in the middle of the room that’s lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves.
“So …” Jessa reclines back in the chair and stretches out her legs while my mother stands in front of us, a nervous wreck.
“What?” She blinks up at me as her phone starts ringing again. And she’s still chewing on that damn fingernail.
“Is …? Is everything okay?” I tread cautiously.
She lowers her thumbnail and glares at me. “It would be if you’d cooperate.” With that, she storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Jesus, she’s moody,” Jessa mumbles with a frown.
“She’s more than moody. She’s unraveling.” I tap my fingers against the armrest. “I wonder who was trying to call her.”
“Maybe your father?”
“Maybe. He does stress her out a lot.” Still, something feels off, but I can’t place what.
Silence wraps around us as my mind attempts to figure out an answer, but figuring out my mother is a mystery I doubt I’ll ever solve.
“So …” Jessa interrupts my thoughts, “you never told me how it went the other night when Reece busted you at that party. Did he tattle on you?”
I shake my head. “No, but Ryder was right by the front door when I stumbled in. And when I say stumbled, I mean, stumbled. He could tell I was shit-faced. And my mother busted me, too, but Ryder made sure she left me alone and helped me back to my room.”
