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Caleb immediately shifts his attention to Mum. “Did you do that?”
A guilty flush creeps across her cheeks. He swears quietly under his breath.
“Caleb, you know I’m right,” she pleads. “You know this is going to rip the plaster off every wound we’ve worked so hard to heal as a family. Do you want Isla dragged into that? Do you?”
Oh my God. She’s using Isla as her next emotional weapon to get to Caleb. If there’s one way to get him to rethink anything, it’s to plant the idea in his head that she could be collateral damage in the family’s new tabloid coverage.
“Don’t let her manipulate you,” I interject. “Because that’s what she’s doing. It’s what she has always done.”
“You’re always trying to drive me out of the family!” Mum cries. “You wanted your father to divorce me—don’t think I don’t know that!”
“Mum. Stop it,” Caleb says, his voice low with anger. “This is none of your business. Or my business, or anyone else’s business but Catherine’s.”
Tears suddenly appear in Mum’s eyes. “She’s turned you against me.”
“No. She hasn’t. But your attitude right now is disappointing me,” he says firmly.
Love for my brother rushes through me. Caleb and I had differing opinions on the affair. About Mum. About Dad. About how our family should look in the aftermath.
But we never let it divide us. He’s my best friend. Caleb has my back. And I have his. Always.
“Thank you,” I say, lowering my voice.
Caleb’s eyes meet mine. “No thanks are necessary.”
An exasperated sound escapes Mum’s lips. “Did you learn nothing from me?” she cries, her attention back on me now since appealing to Caleb resulted in nothing. “You’re really going to let another driver tear this family apart?”
I stare at her. I can’t believe how clearly I’m seeing her now. I knew there had to be some reason why I couldn’t completely trust her. I didn’t know how to figure it out. I couldn’t unlock it, even with therapy. I put so much pressure on myself to just trust her again, to be the good daughter, to leave the past behind and fully embrace her again like Caleb did. To feel things I didn’t because I felt like I should. I felt bad about myself for so long and let that guilt suffocate me inside. I shared it with nobody beside my therapist, who tried to give me the tools to release it, but the guilt raged on.
But I trusted Mason with the truth. He didn’t judge me. He didn’t make me feel like a monster for feeling that way about my own mum.
He gave me a safe space to be myself.
That is the kind of man I have. There are so many things to like about him, but that was one of the first things I noticed that made him special.
And unless Mason wants to walk away from me now, there’s no way in hell I’m giving him up. For anyone.
“I will not,” I say, my voice dangerously low as I use every skill I have to keep myself calm, “let any destruction happen. Only you can control how you respond to the tabloids, Mum. I cannot do that for you. If you need some therapy to give you the coping skills to do it, then get it. We’re not going public now, but you have this information to give you time to prepare for when and if we reveal our relationship.”
Mum’s dark arched eyebrows draw together in confusion. “What do you mean, if?”
I lift one shoulder in a casual shrug, as if we hadn’t been arguing mere minutes earlier. “If Mason wants to be in a relationship with me. We’ve just started dating. Who knows where this will go? That’s why we aren’t parading around the paddock holding hands, Mum.”
Caleb suddenly turns his head towards the back of the plane. “Dad’s coming.”
My stomach goes acidic once again, the few sips of tea I’ve had during this flight making me feel nauseous. “Mason isn’t with him?” I ask quietly. “What is Dad’s expression?”
“No, and neutral.”
My new scriptwriting brain goes into overdrive again. What does that mean? Is this good? Bad? Is Mason over all this drama? I wouldn’t blame him if he was. Maybe he thinks his life has enough pressure without heaping on dating a Collings Motors heiress to it.
Dad reaches us. “Are we now standing during flights?” he asks.
“Just talking,” Caleb says casually, returning to his seat.
“Mason would like to see you,” Dad says, turning to me. His face and voice are still neutral.
Why is he still like that? Why can’t he smile? Give me some kind of nod? A look of recognition in his eyes? A warm inflexion in his voice?
