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Grae stares at me. I arch my eyebrows as I wait for his reply.
He lets out a breath. “Fine.”
He turns to Cain. “I shouldn’t have punched you.”
What? No sorry?
Cain nods. “Apology accepted.”
I sigh. Oh well. I guess that will do.
Grae turns back to me. “Nice gown.”
I glance down at the sleeveless midnight blue gown I’m wearing. I still don’t like gowns, but I have to admit I took a bit of care picking this one. The glimmer of awe in Cain’s eyes when he first saw me in it made the effort worthwhile.
“Try not to ruin it,” Grae adds.
I snort.
“There you are!” I suddenly hear my mother’s excited voice from the top of the stairs.
I brace myself as she descends upon us, going straight towards her favorite son.
“You look dashing, my dear,” she tells him before putting her arms around him.
“And you look gorgeous,” he tells her. “Happy birthday.”
She snorts. “Come now. You know my birthday isn’t until Sunday.”
“It isn’t?” Grae feigns a look of surprise. “Well, you look gorgeous every day, so every day might as well be your birthday.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Lady killer.
My mother seems to love it, though. Of course she does. She has a huge smile on her face, which disappears as soon as she turns to me.
“Oh. You’re still here, Alyssa,” she says.
Is that disappointment I hear in her voice?
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I tell her. “I’ll get out of your hair soon.”
That wasn’t what I meant to say. I told myself I’d be nice. But just seeing her brings out the rebel in me.
“I only came to see Grae,” I even add.
“Allie,” Grae warns me.
My mother puts up her hand. “No. Let your sister talk. Her bitterness has always been her most endearing quality, after all. Too bad she hasn’t acquired anything else.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you haven’t changed,” she answers. “You’re still a child. You still don’t know what you want. You still think the world revolves around you. You’re ungrateful, spiteful, foolish…”
“Mom.” Grae puts a hand on her arm.
“You still think you’re pretty when you pout, don’t you?” My mother continues in spite of Grae’s request. “And amusing when you get into trouble. You thought you were being a little rebel, but you were just desperate for attention. And you still are. Poor girl.”
My jaw clenches. How dare she?
She glances at Cain. “Just because you brought a fine man with you doesn’t make you a woman. You’re just playing dress-up, playing games.” Now, she looks Cain in the eye. “How much did she offer you to come here tonight?”
“Ma’am, that’s enough.” Cain puts his hands on her shoulders as he stands between us.
I swallow.
“Yes,” I speak softly as I try to keep my voice from quivering with the anger I feel in my chest. “It’s enough.”
I grab Cain’s hand and lead him up the stairs and out of the ballroom. I keep going down the hall, walking as briskly as I can in my platform heels. With each step, I fight the tears stinging the back of my eyes.
Only when I’m out of breath do I stop and let go of Cain’s hand. By then, I’ve reached another corridor.
I recognize the doors to the library and I go in. Cain follows me and closes the doors behind him.
I sit on the chaise lounge by the window, my old favorite. I kick my shoes off, put my feet up and hug my knees to my chest in an effort to squeeze some of the pain from it. Then I gaze up at the full moon in the night sky as I take deep breaths to calm myself down.
“Here.” Cain offers me his handkerchief.
I shake my head before dropping my chin between my knees. “I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to let her get to me.”
At least, that’s what I’m trying to do.
“Okay.”
Cain puts his hand back in his pocket. Then he unbuttons his jacket and sits on the other end of the lounge. For a minute or so, he says nothing, letting the silence hang in the air. It’s not an awkward silence, though. Rather, a comforting silence. Then he speaks.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you and your mother don’t get along.”
I lift my chin and shake my head. “No, I wasn’t.”
I wish I was. I wish we could get along, but I don’t see how that’s ever going to happen now.
“I’m sorry you had to hear all that,” I tell him.
Cain shrugs. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”
I snort. “Liar.”
He turns his head to look at me. “You shouldn’t, either. You know yourself better.”
I meet his gaze. “You’re saying I’m none of the things she said?”
“Exactly,” Cain answers.
His opinion gives me relief.
“Except for the part where you think you’re pretty when you pout, because that’s true,” he adds.
