I huff impatiently and turn away, ignoring her pleas for forgiveness and her quaking, muffled sobs. I’d laid awake at night, wondering incessantly how he’d gotten into the apartment in the first place, and now I know.
Not only had Bee endangered her own life, she’d almost gotten me killed because she’d broken her promise to me. That’s the part that really chaps my ass.
She’s never gone back on her word before, and I now know that she’s not worth trusting.
“When this is all over and we go back to New York, I’m getting my own place,” I say, rising shakily to my feet.
I’d been so excited to get her here and share my news and angst over the whole Vincent situation, and now I just feel empty. Looks like I can’t trust anyone anymore.
“Sissy, no,” she sobs, jumping up to rush over and throw her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Sissy. Please, you have to understand.”
“Leave me alone, Bee. You did the one thing I can’t forgive. You broke your promise.”
“Sissy. Stop being such a bitch.”
I pull away from Bee and whip around, almost squealing when my brother Justin walks in, his Stetson tipped back and sweaty, his boots dusty, just the way I’ve always remembered.
“You stop interfering. You have no idea—”
“I do. I heard what she said. She made a mistake.”
From the way Justin is staring at Bee you’d swear she’s the only woman left on the planet. I feel a twinge in the region of my heart and push it back ruthlessly. That’s the very same look Vincent had given me before I’d left.
“A mistake that almost got me killed,” I hiss. “You shut up and give me a kiss,” I mutter, throwing Bee a scathing look while I wag a finger at him. “I’ve missed you.”
He obliges, wrapping his strong arms around me to give me a bone cracking squeeze.
“God, twerp, I’m glad you’re okay. I was out in the far pastures checking for water. I didn’t know what happened until this morning when I got home. Lousy cell reception up there, and Dad didn’t want to overwhelm you with the whole family, so he didn’t come get me. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay. As you can see, I’m alive and in one piece. No thanks to her,” I snarl, throwing a thumb and a nasty look at Bee.
“Now, darlin’—”
I ignore his chiding and peck him on the lips, walking away with a frustrated growl that shuts him up.
“You wanna coddle her some more, you go right ahead. I’m done. It’s gonna take more’n a few crocodile tears and a sad tune to make me forgive her.”
Rushing upstairs, I lock myself into my studio and get to work, smiling darkly at the canvas and cursing everyone within a fifty mile radius. Hours later, I stand back to survey my progress and feel what little is left crack and crumble.
Everything on the canvas is dark and gloomy.
For the first time in my life.
Chapter Nineteen
I can’t believe—of all the goddamned gall!
“Mama!”
“Oh, Sissy dear, calm down, stress isn’t good for the baby,” she trills, cutting more pumpkin as I stand at the kitchen counter and glare at her. Casting surreptitious glances at the door every time I hear a footfall.
“Sssh, would you quit that! Someone will hear you!”
She keeps peeling and dicing pumpkin for tomorrow’s pumpkin pies as if she hasn’t got a care in the world, while I’m standing here freaking the hell out.
“Mama!”
“Well, what did you want me to do, Cecelia?” she asks, finally losing patience. “Beau invited him. I couldn’t just turn him away when he got here, now could I? Anyway, you have something to tell the boy, so you should be grateful he came to you.”
I feel myself bubbling with angry resentment, and for the second time in my life I explode and neglect to show my mother the respect she’s due.
“Grateful? He’s sitting in the den sharing drinks with Daddy and Justin while I… All I asked for was a little time, Mama! Why can’t you just understand that!”
“Time for what, Sis?” she asks, raising a regal blonde brow at me. “To stick your head in the sand and hide? You think now that fancy shmancy art gallery called for more of your work you don’t need him?”
Goddammit, how does she know I’ve made a good amount of money and that my art has finally taken off? I haven’t told a soul.
“I overheard you on the phone. I know you, Cecelia, and I know how your mind works when you think you’re in trouble. You ignore the issue and just keep going till it’s either gone or your daddy has taken care of the problem. Well, not anymore. You tell that boy, or I will,” she says harshly, pointing the tip of the knife at me for emphasis.