Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(98)

Jillian smiled, adding a teaspoon of sugar to the antique teacup I’d gotten her for Easter at a thrift shop. The scent of peppermint filled the air. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

“You sound like you know something I don’t.” I narrowed my eyes.

Jillian laughed. “I know lots of things you don’t. Let me start by pointing out the most important one—it’s not just your mother you are worried about. You are petrified of Christian, or Nicky, or whatever you want to call him today. You’ve been barricading yourself in the office every day until eight o’clock since you found out he was waiting for you each night.”

“It’s stalker behavior.” I stomped to the door to make a point. “I’m trying to discourage it.”

“You’re so deeply in love with the guy I’m embarrassed for your soul. Why aren’t you giving him a chance?”

How had we gotten from the subject of my mother to this? I rolled my eyes, plucking my lip gloss from my bag and reapplying it absentmindedly. “Because I’ll never trust the man again, so there’s really no point.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetie.” She came to pat my arm on her way back to her desk.

I frowned. “What are you doing here, anyway? At least I’ve had a reason to stay late these past few days, but you didn’t.” I paused. “Or did you?” I grinned.

Jillian got back to her seat, grabbed a hair clip, and tossed it in my direction. “Leave now!”

I dodged the hair clip, laughing. “What’s his name?”

“Out!”

I straightened back up. “Hmm. Out. That sounds cute and eccentric. Are his parents environmentalists? I don’t know, I like Woods or Leaf more.”

“I swear to God, Arya . . .” She waggled her finger at me. “By the way, you remember our meeting tomorrow, right? With the woman from Miami? Nine thirty?”

“Yes.” I made a face. “I’m still not sure how we can help her. Her business idea sounds solid, but she hasn’t even incorporated the company yet.”

Then I was out the door, giggling my way to another encounter with Nicky.



Only he wasn’t there.

For the first time in a week, Nicky didn’t lay siege outside my office.

Disappointment flooded me. I hated the side effects of not seeing him there. The weak knees, the way my heart dropped and my shoulders sagged. I willed myself to stand taller and maneuvered my way to the subway, plastering a deranged smile on my face. This just went to show that Nicky wasn’t reliable. He’d given up on me in less than a week.

But then you did chide him and ask that he never contact you again, a voice inside me reasoned. Numerous times, in fact. Furthermore, you were a complete bitch when he pointed out he quit his job for you.

Logically, I knew I had no right to be mad at him for not waiting outside my office door for three hours. And also logically, it was true that he hadn’t had to quit his job. He could have carried on with his life, safe in the knowledge I wasn’t going to hand him over to the authorities. He’d chosen to repent for his deception. But maybe my issue wasn’t about trusting Nicky. Maybe my issue was with trusting myself. After all, he was the height of everything. The desirable, ultimate, unrequited love. Had been for so many years.

Maybe I just didn’t want to hand over the remainder of my heart to the man who’d stolen it nearly two decades ago and never given it back.

I spent the train journey mulling over my thoughts on the situation with Nicky. The kid he had been. The man he was today. When I arrived at my building, I saw a figure loitering at the stairway. My pulse kicked up.

He’s here.

My feet moved faster. But as I drew closer, I realized that it couldn’t be him. The person waiting outside was too short, too slight. My stride slowed until I came to a complete stop.

“Mom?”

The figure swiveled its head and looked up at me.

She looked exhausted, ten pounds slimmer, but still extremely put together. She patted herself clean of invisible dirt, like her mere presence in a zip code that wasn’t Park Avenue dirtied her up.

“Hello, darling,” she chirped brightly, her plastic smile unwavering. “Sorry I’ve missed your calls. I had a few things to tend to. Is this a bad time? I can come back tomorrow if you’d like.”

I shook my head slowly. “No. Right now is fine. Come on up.”

I kicked off my heels and threw my keys into the ugly bowl by my door upon arrival, realizing this was the first time my mother had ever been to my apartment. I flicked the coffee machine on, pulling out two cups.

“Take a seat. How’ve you been?” I asked, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. She’d done it again. Gone MIA on me. After a few weeks when she’d actually resembled a mother, albeit from afar and only if you squinted to really put it into focus, she’d just bailed. Again. I should’ve known. Should’ve expected it. Then why did it hurt so much?

Beatrice perched herself on the edge of my green velvet Anthropologie couch, occupying as little space as possible. “Well. Everything considered, of course.”

“Coffee okay?”

“Oh, just lovely, thank you.”

“Cream? Sugar?” I asked. It was wild that I didn’t know such a trivial thing about my mother.