Heat Wave(101)

I have to call my parents. I know their opinion doesn’t matter but this is different. I don’t care if my mother and father don’t approve – I know one-hundred-percent that they won’t. But my mother is in politics and she’s not just a bitch in a way that makes her strong, in the way she gets things done. She can be downright horrible and I can’t trust her for anything.

Don’t tell them.

I should listen to that voice.

Elope.

I should listen to that voice.

I should, I should, I should.

But what if they could just see it from my point of view?

What if they could understand?

I stick my phone underneath my pillow in my room, out of sight out of mind, and take a long shower, but my brain is being torn in half. There’s a moment of utter happiness that Logan and I are together, no more secrets, that I’m going to marry him.

Then there’s one of utter rage and despair. When I think there’s no way it will ever happen. That there’s no way I can feel this happy without having the rug pulled out from under me. Nothing has ever been this easy before – why should this be?

And it hasn’t been easy. It’s been a battle to fight the shame. But the love is the easy part. It’s free-flowing and never-ending and I feel it from him just as much as I give and that truly makes everything worth it.

Get married. Don’t tell them. Don’t let them ruin your one chance at happiness.

The thoughts again. Louder this time.

Would it be cowardly not to say anything?

Or is it smart to protect the one true thing I have?

Because I know the risk…it’s not just that my parents could disown me.

They could take away Moonwater.

And I wish I lived in some other timeline, some other life, where that wasn’t a possibility, but it is. I can’t underestimate her. I can’t ever do that.

The only solution is to live a lie once more. It’s a small price to pay to keep what’s ours.

I take my phone out from under my pillow, about to plug it into the wall since the battery is low, and move on, forget about it. Talk to Logan, see what we should do, if I should say anything at all.

It rings in my hand.

I gasp, staring at it blankly.

It’s my mother. On my new phone I haven’t had time to program in her number, but it’s her all the same.

Holy fuck.

I hesitate before answering it. Thank god my battery is dying and I can use that as an excuse. She’s probably just calling to wish me a happy new year, anyway. This should be a short call.

I answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello Veronica.” Her voice is like ice. “Happy new year.”

“Thanks,” I say as cheerfully and casually as possible. “Did you guys have a good night?”

“We did,” she says. “You know, had the usual party down at the Palmer House.”

An eerie silence fills the line. I’m about to say something benign when she sighs. But it’s not drawn-out or overdramatic. It’s sharp. It’s a warning. “I heard you had a great time,” she says. Her words are a loaded gun, hinting at damage.

“Last night?” I ask cautiously.

“Yes. There was a party at Moonwater, wasn’t there? For you, the staff, the guests…”

My breath freezes in the top of my lungs, refusing to move onward. “How did you know that?”

“Veronica, Moonwater is more our hotel than it is Logan’s. Not by a lot, but it’s enough. Do you seriously think I wouldn’t know what’s going on in our own hotel?”

Oh no. Oh no. This can’t be going where I think it’s going.

The doom settling over me is insurmountable.

I can’t even speak.

“I know what happened last night,” she adds and now her voice is cracking, brittle with anger, acidic to the core. “I know what people saw.”

“What happened?” I whisper. I can’t hide the fear in my voice.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, like I’ve struck her.

“What happened?” she repeats. “I know what’s going on with you two. What you’ve done. Tell me right now that you and Logan are not…together. Tell me right now that you aren’t and I’ll believe you.”

Oh my god. I nearly drop the phone. I can’t even stand up, I stumble to the couch, sitting down. My heart is shrinking.

This can’t be happening.

How could she know?

“Who told you we were together?” I ask, my face going hot with fear and blistering anger.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Who told you!” I yell. “It matters!”

“Oh, fine. It was Charlie. And he’s been honest so far, he wouldn’t start lying now.”