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“A brunch would be lovely,” I lied, giving her a fake smile she wouldn’t bother to check for honesty.
“Pink roses—and I’ll buy you a gorgeous vintage gown for the event,” Mother continued. “We’ll have tea and small cakes…”
So much for waiting until after her honeymoon to plan. Mother went on and on like she always did when it came to parties and making an impression. Showing off her money to the women she called her friends.
More like cackling, gossipy bitches if their monthly brunch at our home told the truth. Fake smiles. Fake boobs. Fake nails. Nothing about them was real except for their money and Mother’s love of it.
I tuned her out, wondering what the hell I would do while waiting for the rest of the weekend to end.
“Mr. Destil and his son fly home tomorrow—he has so much to take care of before moving.” Off the wall subject change, but whatever. Mother couldn’t keep her focus on one thing any more than Jenny’s new puppy could.
“So we won’t be seeing them today?” Too much hope laced my words, but she didn’t seem to catch on.
She glanced down at the gold and diamond-encrusted watch around her wrist. “They should arrive within the hour.” A quick look over my attire caused her gaze to narrow. “I would appreciate seeing you wear something a little more…more. Mr. Destil is already taken with me, but I want him to be pleased with how I’ve raised you as well. What you do, how you dress, is a direct reflection of me, Addilyn, and your jeans and that sweater just aren’t enough.”
How many times had I heard that one?
“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured.
“Why don’t you run along and get ready, hmm? Leave your hair down and take it easy on the shimmery eyeshadow that makes you look like a whore.”
Yeah, thanks for that too, Mother.
Biting my tongue, I considered an afternoon in the presence of the two Destil men. My stomach roiled into a tight knot. I set aside my fork and swallowed hard, hugging myself. “I-I’m not feeling so well…the eggs…”
Mother’s sharp glance made me grimace, and I closed my eyes, swaying a bit in my seat for good measure.
“I f-feel like I’m going to p-puke,” I sputtered as though bile already coated my tongue.
“Bathroom!” Her shrill voice made me wince even harder. “Don’t you dare vomit in here. The housekeeper will never be able to rid the room of the stench before our luncheon!”
Hand over my mouth, I sprinted from her presence—but I held back a grin rather than spewing my breakfast across the floor. There was no way in hell she would let me out of my bedroom for the rest of the day. The chance I would embarrass her by puking all over her company? Give her a stomach bug?
I’d gained my freedom for the day.
Still smiling, I shut myself in my room and flopped onto my bed.
Yeah, safe…but only for two weeks until the Destil men would return to Anchorage.
