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Half a dozenclonkssound from the cement behind us. One surety I can make about Veronica Valari: she’s predictable in her tells. There’s not a single misstep of her red soles against the sidewalk, despite its earthquake-induced cracks and humps.
“Come now, Kara. Melodrama isn’t your brand.”
My vision sharpens as I snap all the way up and all the way around. “Melodrama. Well, there’s a convenient label for the collar, at least.”
Her head reels back. “For the… What are you—”
“You heard me.” I hook a hand under Maximus’s elbow to maintain my balance. “And you understood too. Can’t have a leash without the collar, right? And the collar won’t stay put if the puppy learns how to slip free from it. So why not some sparkly labels to make it more appealing?”
A new pair of red-soledclomps, courtesy of her stiff backward step. “My word. Is that really how you see it? Even now?”
“You mean especially now?” I blurt it as fast as my lips will allow, before her wounded rasp can wind all the way into my heart. Oh, it’ll get there eventually, but I vow to be ready this time. To lock down my atriums and ventricles against her calculated show. “Careful, Mother. Woeful and weepy isn’tyourbrand.”
She rocks back again. Executes a wooden turn. But after that, there’s no controlling stomp. She’s shuffling now, her shoulders dropped, her aura dripping with defeat.
I open my mouth, fumbling for something to say that isn’t direct surrender.
Until she angles back again and beats me to it.
“Darling, I’m not the one who matters right now.”
I’m suddenly frozen in place as if my feet are bound in ice blocks. Mother moves as if she’s pushing through the same frozen boundaries, her motions jerky and awkward.
But when she steps away from me this time, it’s for good. She takes two steps. Four. Eight. Sixteen. Until there’s an atmospheric tundra between us, wide and freezing and bitter.
And awful.
I tuck my arms against my sides, but my body can’t decide whether to sweat or shiver. It torments me with both at once, on the same unnerving loop. Back and forth, again and again and again, feverish then freezing.
My heart and mind wage a more terrible tumult.
I should still be incensed with Veronica. I have every right to be. But I’m not. I can’t even force the fury to come back.
Because it doesn’t baffle me anymore.
Because now, suddenly…I get it.
My child is still just a sprout, but I already understand what it feels like to love it beyond reason. To vow I’ll do whatever it takes, past all logic or laws, to ensure this creature’s safety and joy. Yes, even the things they might hate me for. Things they might misinterpret, misunderstand, or even take for granted.
Things like sucking up to an earthworm masquerading as an entertainment reporter just to make sure their wedding gets the best press spin.
“Oh, God.”
I croak it so slow beneath my breath, even Maximus doesn’t hear. Only Jaden, still a good thirty feet away, cocks his head while pivoting around. My distress has him already crunching a tight frown, though he doesn’t play solitaire with concern for long.
Kell swings around, abandoning her quest for the nearest bar to confirm my SOS has hit the air in more ways than one. Since she’s closer, she gets to my side with fewer strides.
“What’s going on? You smell like you ate a box of matches then doused them in lime juice.”
I close my eyes and clutch my stomach again.
Fortunately, Maximus knows exactly how to interpret it.
“Not the best visual for keeping her on the good side of the porcelain god,” he tells her.
“Won’t do her any good if I lie.” While her comeback is crisp, she clutches my shoulder with tender firmness. “Now that we’ve established our little safe zone, what’s actually happening, darling?”
Safe zone. It’s her way of stating that we’re past the point of putting on smiles for the cameras. That if I even try to convince her otherwise, the scent references are going to get worse. Regardless, why am I even thinking about finishing the media walk-up?
