All or Nothing(15)
I strode past both women and poured myself a cup of coffee. “Yeah. I’m meeting her at Village Hall in an hour.”
“Do you need any help?” Mom asked. “Bree was just saying she doesn’t have anything planned for the day. I’m sure you two want to spend as much time together as possible before she leaves the country.”
Bree’s cheeks flushed such a pretty pink I wanted to touch them.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m sure Cynthia would really appreciate it.”
“And don’t forget lunch with the board tomorrow.” She looked at her watch and shook her head. “I’m supposed to be helping set up the craft fair in fifteen minutes, so I need to get out of here.” Then she scurried out of the kitchen, leaving Aubree and me alone with the awkward silence.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Paris,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”
My jaw ached from gritting my teeth and I tried to relax it. “Why are you moving?”
She shrugged. “Why not?”
I’m sure there were at least half a dozen good reasons, but the only one that would find its way to my tongue was me. “What cards were you holding last night?”
“What?”
“When you went all in. What cards did you have in your hand?”
She lifted her chin. “A seven and a two.”
The confession shouldn’t have surprised me, but it was still like a punch to the gut. “Suited?”
“No. Two of diamonds, seven of clubs.”
“There you go,” I muttered. “Paris in a nutshell.”
She gaped, the tiny little stone in her nose winking at me. “Are you trying to compare my life to a stupid game of poker? That’s real fucking nice.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t play at both like you were trying to lose.”
Her eyes flashed and she set her mug down on the counter with a clatter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on. When was the last time you could trust your mom to follow through on anything she promised you?” I was too angry to regret the words, even as hurt slashed across her delicate features. I wanted her to be hurt, damn it. I wanted her to wake up and think about what she was doing before she made a terrible mistake.
“I flew out to see her in LA in November. She took me to the set of her boyfriend’s movie—just like she promised.”
“Yeah, but that was about her. And when you moved to Seattle with the guy who wanted to live in that hippie commune? And then Chicago and then New York? It was always about them. You bend over backwards for people who only care about themselves and you’re leaving behind people who care about you.”
“Like who? Who’s here that I need to stick around for? Everyone has their own life, their own plans.”
“And what about me?” My voice cracked like a pre-pubescent boy when the words came out. “I’ll be here.”
She swallowed, some emotion I couldn’t identify filling her eyes as she stared at me. “Yeah, you’ll be here and be completely miserable while you live your life for someone else.”
I stepped back. She was right but she didn’t understand. How could she? “At least I’ll succeed at something.”
“Is it really success if you don’t even want it?”
“Stop turning this around on me,” I growled. Damn it, why couldn’t she see sense? And why did I want so badly to kiss away the hurt on her face? “We’re talking about you making another stupid, impulsive decision. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“You don’t get to turn me down flat and then guilt trip me for not sticking around.” She kept her voice quiet but her words were heavy with hurt.
“Turn you down?” I fought to keep from yelling. My family didn’t need to be part of this conversation. “You were drunk. I didn’t—”
“Kennedy!” Mom called from the front of the house. “Cynthia is here! She needs you to ride with her downtown so you can help her set up the snow fort station.”
I grabbed my thermos of coffee and headed for the door. “I have to go, but this conversation isn’t over.”
“Come on, son,” my father called. “It’s time for the opening ceremony.”
The clock on Village Hall read 11:57. I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration. I had no desire to climb onto that stage with Mom and Dad and my little sisters, no desire to be the good son who nodded at my father’s droning on as if he were the wise lord of the land he liked to pretend to be.
Mom stepped up and squeezed my bicep. “We’ll just imagine the everyone in the crowd in their underwear,” she whispered with a wink.