Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3)(96)
No one spoke, though Mum had the grace to look ashamed. Dad shuffled uncomfortably, too—as well he might, since Mum never did anything they hadn’t both agreed upon, and for all his quietness, Dad enjoyed and strongly endorsed his wife’s frequent bouts of bonkersness.
Focusing on her parents, she said, “If you want me to behave like an adult, you need to give me the space to do so. Instead, you treated me like a child. I got a job,” Eve went on, “for myself. A job I was committed to, and that I—that I loved—” Oh dear, her voice was wobbling. Stop thinking about Jacob. Stop it! She cleared her throat and continued. “I did exactly as you asked. But you interfered in a manner that damaged my—my chosen career.”
Dad, looking oddly pleased, interjected. “Career, is it?”
Eve desperately wanted to say yes, which gave her a flash of habitual anxiety. Sometimes (all right, fine: often) she felt as if wanting things too badly meant dooming herself to fail. But she wanted Jacob more than anything, and they couldn’t be doomed. So she refused to accept that feeling any longer. Refused to even consider it.
She’d lived in fear of failure for far too long.
“Yes,” she said after a moment. “Yes. My career.” Cooking to start people’s mornings off right, taking care of the little touches that made a house feel like a home, chatting with different guests every day and feeling as if charm could be meaningful rather than a glittering waste of time. That was her career, or it would be soon. Eve knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid of it.
“I will always be grateful for the things you’ve done for me,” she told her parents quietly. “For the privileges and safety nets you’ve afforded me, for the ways you’ve supported me when I didn’t know who I was, even for pushing me to get a grip and make a change. I’m trying my best to make you proud, and I always will. But I’m never going to be like everyone else. I’m not even going to be like the rest of this family, as much as I love you all. I’m a different person and I need different things and I work in a different way, and that’s okay.”
It occurred to Eve that this would be a convenient time to mention her recent discovery vis-à-vis autism, et cetera, but she didn’t want that conversation to be a family argument in the kitchen. She wanted it to be something easy and familiar that she mentioned one day, all casually, and everyone else responded relatively casually, and everything was fine and no one looked at her for too long, and maybe Jacob was there and he held her hand.
So, not yet. Not today. Because this was her knowledge, to do with what she wanted.
Instead of blurting it out, then, she simply finished her outburst with a different truth. “I’m changing. I’m figuring myself out. You need to respect that, and let it continue, because I am an adult and I have been for quite some time. Even if I haven’t always acted like it. All right?”
There was a heavy pause during which Eve became distinctly nervous that she might have to put her foot down harder than intended. She found herself wondering WWJD: What Would Jacob (King of Boundaries, First of His Name) Do?
Then Mum swallowed hard and nodded, her neat bob brushing her cheekbones as she stepped forward. “You’re right, of course, my darling. I apologize.”
Dad came next, catching Eve’s hands and giving them a quick squeeze. “We’re sorry, Evie. Really. We were just worried about you. But you’re correct.”
“We’re very proud of you,” Mum said, pursing her lips in a way that meant she was hiding a smile.
Eve didn’t bother to hide hers. “Well, wonderful. Glad to hear it. Very emotional reunion, et cetera, but now I’m afraid I’ve got to dash so I can win Jacob back, and so on and so forth, so . . . bye!” She kissed her parents’ cheeks, then turned on her heel and whipped out of the kitchen.
“Evie, wait!” She’d barely made it down the hall before Dani’s voice followed her. Pausing by the front door, Eve grabbed her shoes and turned to face her sister—no, sisters, Dani striding toward her and Chloe hurrying behind.
“What’s up? I’m on a tight schedule.” Actually, Eve was on no schedule beyond the one that went:
Find Jacob.
Insist she would never leave Jacob.
Proceed to never leave Jacob, regardless of how much he may protest.
But she was slightly—only slightly—distracted from that particular plan when she noticed the uncharacteristically nervous looks on her sisters’ faces. Chloe, in particular, might possibly be sweating. Chloe! Sweating!
“Are you all right, darling?” Eve asked. “Do you need me to open a window? Are you having a wobble? Is—”
“I’m fine.” Chloe flapped a hand, then sighed heavily. “Except for the part where I’m drowning in guilt.”
Eve blinked. “Oh. Erm. I see.”
“We’re sorry, is what she’s trying to say,” Dani interjected. “We were interfering cows and you’re absolutely right—we should’ve asked a few more questions before jumping to the sex cult conclusion.”
“Now your job is all . . . fudged,” Chloe said, “and it’s all our fault.”
“Not entirely,” Dani added. “It was also Zaf’s fault.”
“Safety first,” came a grim, rumbling voice from down the hall. Eve looked up to discover her sisters’ boyfriends were also hovering at the edge of the Group of Guilt.