and equally, it ran along the same parallel lines as my morning sickness, persistently annoying as well as arduous.
Ari’s family wasn’t the only it seemed as Emily suddenly vexed her frustration at my lack of attention, making me bear witness to a temper she’d never shown before.
Startled by the fork slamming onto the boho patterned ceramic plate, I jumped in my seat. “Was that necessary, Emily?”
“Have you heard anything I’ve said? At all?”
My brows furrowed as I met her blazing gaze. “Honestly, no. I must have zoned out there for a minute.”
“Oh, it’s great to see you’re interested in whatever I have to say!” she chastened, hurt marring her voice.
“I wasn’t doing it intentionally!” I shot back defensively, dropping my cutlery either side of my plate.
She scoffed. “What, just because my life isn’t as exciting as yours, it’s not worth listening to in your eyes?”
“I’ve always shown an interest in your life!” I argued, deliberately lowering my voice at the realisation our intense argument had attracted attention. “And simmer down, people are staring at us.” I winced. I sounded like the one person I never wanted to aspire to be; my mother.
Emily’s aggrieved gaze glanced around the café. “Yeah, so. They should learn to mind their own business.”
“Don’t be petulant, Ems,” I scolded. “I do listen to you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t earlier. I’ve just got a lot going on right now, no excuse I know.”
“You’ve been distracted for months now. I thought we talked about everything, and lately, you’ve refused to share anything with me.”
Sighing heavily, I picked up the napkin in my lap, twisting it between my fingers as I contemplated. But it had become clear that Emily’s patience had grown thin with me as she noticeably huffed at me.
“Well, are you going to enlighten me, or are you going to continue treating me like my feelings don’t matter to you?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply; count, Teddy, and just breathe.
In the end, I concluded giving her the briefest of explanations was better than nothing. “Something terrible happened to me when I was fifteen, and now…” I swallowed noisily. “…it’s reared its ugly head. I don’t want to go into any detail, as it’s not pretty. So, can you trust that when the time comes, I will tell you more?”
A defeated Emily held up both hands. “Fine. I’ll accept that for now. Just remember I’m here for you too, okay?”
Nodding stiffly and wordlessly, I quietly grasped the fork and resumed my salad.
Chapter Seven
THE DAY HAD BEEN long and was about to be drawn out even longer. So while the last two members of staff strolled past my cubicle, I remained glued to my chair, mumbling a bye to their exuberant waving and jovial goodbyes. I listened for the clinking of the glass door opening and released a sigh of relief as it closed behind them. Quiet at last.
Or so I thought.
I was about to reconfigure the laundry and add a mudroom off the three-car garage when I was distracted once more by the gentle click of heels along the timber boards. I gulped and bravely called out, “Hello, who’s there?” The mystery person either didn’t hear me, or they simply chose to ignore me. I called out once again. Again, nothing, triggering a terrifying panic within. God, please, don’t let it be Emmett.
The worry and the fear alone ought to have been enough to discourage me from facing whoever was out there. Nonetheless, I forced myself to slide off the chair, my footfalls tentative as I walked into the hallway only to veer off into the common area as the lone figure strolled towards me. They swiftly detoured, bringing my fast-paced footsteps to an abrupt stop.
Entrapped by my unwelcome visitor, I glared. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Now that’s a terrible way to greet your mother, Theodora,” she responded tartly, dropping the expensive designer purse she typically carried on the coffee table in the centre of the room. The midi-length skirt of her camel coloured linen dress with contrast stitching swaying as she purposely slipped her slender hands into the forward pockets, all the while regarding me with a cold, emotionless stare. Honestly, she looked more like a gingerbread man than a well-dressed woman.
“I’ll ask again, Mother; what in the hell are you doing here?” I forcefully demanded, rigidly crossing my arms over my chest.
Purposely ignoring my question, my mother’s green eyes astutely surveyed our surroundings. “Are you alone, dear?”
My eyes rolled at the condescending tone. “That’s the only reason you’re here now, isn’t it, Mother? Cause I’m alone?” I grimly questioned, motioning to the empty cubicles. “No witnesses means no need for pretence, doesn’t it?” The contemptuous look she gave all but confirmed my suspicions. With a derisive shake of my head, I snorted earning yet another scornful look. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. So, no need to fret, Mother Dearest, you’ll be able to swan out of here with your virtue completely unscathed by scandal,” I sneered.
Skimming the pad of a slim finger over the back of a club lounge, she let out a humourless laugh. “Still full of dramatics, I see, and where are your manners? Not to graciously offer a drink in this blistering heat is such bad etiquette, Theodora.”
“We aren’t in the habit of serving witches brew here.”
“Hmph, such a childish remark, but one can't expect anything less from you, I suppose.”
My impatience grew, as had the murderous thoughts. “WHAT do you want?”
One long, manicured finger tapped her chin as a malicious smile spread. “A little birdy told me some rather disturbing news, so I thought I’d come by to see for myself how you were faring? But gathering by your current demeanour, I’d say not very well.”
Paling, I laughed bitterly. “How altruistic of you, Mother.”
She gasped. “Trying to kill yourself, Theodora is no laughing matter. It’s such an offensive thing to do, not to mention a sin in the eyes of God,” she tutted reproachfully, briefly raising her eyes and hands to the heavens. “And what about poor Ari? What his family must think of you dating their beloved son now? They must be urging him to run, surely?” She sighed derisively. “I know I would…” Her disparaging words were sharper than the knife she regularly used to pierce my suffering heart.
My face and shoulders dropped.
She smirked. “I’ve hit a nerve, haven’t I?”
I also felt an instinctive need to protect my unborn child from the presence of Satan herself with both hands flying to my stomach. Which, in the end, turned out to be a terrible mistake as mother’s horrified gasp filled the room.
Approaching me in slow, measured steps, she drove the blade a little deeper. “You’re pregnant too?” I kept my eyes cast downwards, but it was my silence
