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He frowned. “I have a feeling you won’t.”
They stared at each other, their gazes locked. Reese turned away first. “More coffee?”
“I’m good.”
“I should probably call my mom.” She could hear the coldness in her voice, and Grady picked up on it too.
“Okay. I’ll see you later? For our dinner date?”
Reese had almost forgotten about that. “Right.”
On parting, he kissed her forehead, and Reese gave herself a few minutes to collect herself. She took that time to read the article in full. Grady hadn’t been wrong, the piece’s tone did ring as neutral, like the first chapter in a story she probably wasn’t going to like. And while her father’s words had been kind, it was her mother who had stuck the knife in. As usual.
She picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey, Mom,” Reese said.
“Oh, hello, Reese. It’s been a while. I’m guessing you need something?”
Reese wasn’t certain her mother had always been this way. Yes, she’d been aloof for as long as Reese could remember, half invested in parenting, but she hadn’t gotten mean until Reese hit her teens. And when her father left, Fran Beresford went full-on bitch. There was a time Reese would have killed for her mother’s approval.
Now she didn’t care. She didn’t like the way she felt when she was around her mother. As if at any moment something catastrophic would happen. It was better keeping Fran at arm’s length.
“I guess I do. I need you to stop talking to Josh Semple.”
“Who is Josh Semple?” her mother asked, clearly irritated by the request.
“The reporter with theGazette. The one you spoke to about my childhood. The one you spoke to without asking me first.”
“Well, he called and asked questions. I didn’t think it was a big deal. And I didn’t realize I needed to run things past you. It’s not like you tell me things.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The new boyfriend you have. I have to find out from Facebook.”
Reese’s hand tightened around her phone. “We’re dating. It’s hardly anything serious. I wasn’t keeping it a secret.”
“And I wasn’t keeping my conversation with that reporter a secret either. Besides, he talked to me weeks ago. I’d forgotten all about it.”
“Please don’t speak to him again.”
A long silence passed before her mother spoke. “Fine. Is there anyone else I shouldn’t talk to?”
“Yes. Anyone asking about me.”
Fran huffed. “Is there anything new with this Jennifer situation? Anything I need to know? Or should know?”
Reese thought to lie and tell her mother nothing, but she hated doing that, so she gave her the abbreviated version. Reese could tell by the change of her mother’s tone that Fran appreciated being updated. Their relationship would never be perfect, but she knew—or at least hoped—she could trust her mother with the limited information when her mother realized the ramifications. As for her father, while Grady had given her something to think about, she had no intention of calling him. She still wasn’t ready to forgive.
ChapterThirty-Two
Reese stared at her reflection. She’d chosen a pastel-pink-colored dress with spaghetti straps that had a corset-like top and a flowy skirt. The fundraising dinner she was attending with Grady was in support of cancer research at Mr. Radcliffe’s hospital. While Ted Radcliffe was a cardiologist, this foundation was near and dear to him. Grady had mentioned that Ted’s youngest sister had died of a leukemia when she was just eighteen, and that Ted had been a supporter of the foundation from its inception.
“Why didn’t your dad become an oncologist?” Reese had asked the day he’d told her about this piece of his family’s history.
“I think it hit too close to home. And he was just going into medicine when she passed, so he focused on another specialty.”
And that had made sense to her.
She grabbed a pair of strappy pale-pink pumps and headed for the bathroom to check her makeup one last time. She had the summer bronzed look with a dark pink lip. She’d done an updo herself—something she’d learned to do from her skating days—and made sure no strand of hair was out of place. Satisfied with how she looked, she took a breath and headed for the living room. Grady would be by any second, so she slipped on the impossibly high heels and prayed she didn’t stumble. She put a tube of lipstick, her phone, and her ID in her purse. As she mulled a sweater, she heard the knock on her door.
