Page 63 of Between the Lines

He froze mid-bite.

“She’s worried,” Maude went on. “Mostly because you haven’t returned her calls or answered her texts.”

Robbie resumed eating like it was no big deal. “I’ve been busy.”

“I know that,” Maude said. “But Mom and Dad don’t.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t want them checking in every five minutes. Or asking questions I don’t have answers to.”

Maude sighed. She’d heard all this before. “When people don’t hear anything, they assume the worst. Especially our parents.”

He exhaled. “I just want to get further along before I explain.”

“You don’t need to explain everything,” Maude said. “But you do need to let them know you’re okay.”

“They won’t hear it that way.”

“They will if you say it plainly,” she said. “You’re on a new, positive path and you’re focused on the future. That’s enough.”

Robbie shook his head. “It never feels like enough with them.”

Maude leaned forward, wondering if a smack on the head would knock some sense into him. “This isn’t about convincing them you’re on the verge of becoming a runaway success. It’s about not letting them worry themselves sick.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “You don’t think I look like a screwup?”

She didn’t hesitate. “No.”

He glanced at her, searching her face.

“You look like someone who’s trying,” she said. “And that’s what matters.”

Robbie picked his fork back up, took another bite, then set it down again. “I suppose you want me to call them.”

“Yes,” Maude said. “And I want you to do it tonight. It’s not fair to put me in the middle of this. And if you don’t do it, I will.”

He sighed, then nodded once. “Okay. Tonight.”

“After you finish eating,” she added.

He gave a tired smile. “You’re relentless.”

“Correct,” Maude said. “Because I love you and I don’t want to end up guilty of your murder.”

He laughed softly and went back to his dinner, and Maude leaned back in her chair. That hadn’t been quite as hard as she’d thought it would be.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Paige stood in the bathroom doorway and surveyed the counter one more time. There was something very satisfying about seeing all those products lined up.

The sink was flanked by neat rows of Luminelle bottles, their labels turned forward like they were posing for a photo. Cleanser on the left. Serum and moisturizer in the center. Makeup lined up along the edge of the vanity. There was foundation, concealer, a soft blush, a palette of eyeshadows, and the lip color she’d already decided would probably become a favorite.

It was the perfect peachy-pink and she liked it enough that she was considering making it her new signature color.

She’d filmed all afternoon in here and all throughout the house and even on the porch. In the bathroom, she’d clamped the ring light to the counter and used her phone like a mirror as she recorded.

She’d done application videos and taken a few close-up texture shots, which had felt a little like being seen in her underwear, but it had to happen if she was going to promote skincare.

She’d done a few casual clips, too, where she talked through why she liked the formulas and how they felt on her skin. Her phone had enough content on it now to give her a week’s worth of uploads.