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“Stop inserting yourself in my life,” I leer, my heart racing that they just mentioned my daughter in front of Hudson.
It’s not because I’m ashamed.
But so Hudson can’t use her against me. Can’t judge me because I’m a single mom, and I have an inkling he’s not about that life.
What we do is sex.
What I do outside of my job is mine. He’s not obligated to know every secret of mine—even though it’s not one.
It’s just none of his business.
“Olive,” my mother chides under her breath. “We’re not going to do this in front of company. I planned this night for you and I will be sorely upset if you miss it. You need to start getting your life together. You’re not a child.”
Embarrassment brushes against my cheeks but I hold my mother’s stern gaze with one of contentment.
I don’t answer her, but she takes her warning as the only thing she needs to express in order for her to feel better about herself and what she’s done.
I need to break free from this once and for all.
I thirst after a new start with Rory and to not have my mother’s meddling in my personal existence.
But I’d leave Dad behind and that’s the only reason why I haven’t left town yet.
“Now,” my mother bristles, lifting her chin haughtily. “Dinner is at five. I expect you to be on your best behavior, Olive. We’ve invited him to our home and I will accept nothing but your best.”
“And I expect you’ll accept and respect my decision when I tell you I’m not coming.”
She glowers at me, clearly not ready to back down, and I’m not either. We could do this all day, her and I. But Hudson is in tow and I’m really curious to see how far she’ll go to make this a reality for herself.
“Your father bought you your favorite cake,” she guilt-trips me. “He’s expecting you to come like you do every year.” She heaves her purse over her shoulder as if this conversation—the one she started—has gone on long enough. “You can call him and tell him that you’re too busy, Olive. We’ll still all be there because we’re a family.”
I could scoff.
A family would include Rory. And I’d mention that. But not in front of Hudson.
Mom pivots on her heels while my focus meets Norah’s shitty smirk. A reminder that she’s the favorite, and will always be the favorite as she strolls out at our mother’s heels in victory.
I sigh inwardly then feel the heaviness of Hudson’s watchful expression and the fact that his silence is fucking beginning to kill me right now.
“What?” I ask, sending him an exasperated look because he knows damn well I didn’t invite her here.
After a beat, he perches himself against the receptionist’s desk with both of his palms and glares liquid hot daggers at me.
“Your birthday today, huh?”
Who cares?
That’s my first response in my head. It’s not like it’s an eventful night at a club or something. Mia buys me my favorite food of the month—because it changes frequently—and tequila, not that I can get blasted on that either.
“Yes,” I deadpan, barely holding on to his stern stare.
“How old?”
“Are you fucking serious?” I glower back at him but he holds true and steady to his attitude problem. “I’m not teaching you how to count.”
“You weren’t going to tell me?” He begins tapping both of his index fingers along the hard desk surface, clearly annoyed.
I’m not entirely sure why. It’s not like we agreed to talk about that stuff. He made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to hurt me. Hinted in so many words that he didn’t want me to get attached either.
