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It takes me a minute to realize he’s talking to me, and when I do, I choke on my next breath.
‘Isn’t this beautiful.’ Ms al Abbas, as if forgetting her true purpose – the child – seems oblivious to everything except the house in front of her. ‘I bet the inside is even more impressive.’
Thomas’s eye ticks. I’d like to think it’s from his injury, but I’m betting it’s a rare tell indicating that he’s reached his limit.
Then again, maybe I’m wrong, because he inclines his head at the social worker’s compliment and gestures her ahead before following behind as she crosses the sidewalk and fairly hops up the front steps.
I wrap the arm outstretched for my bag around Mary and walk behind them.
‘Wow.’ Ms al Abbas voice echoes as Mary and I enter the foyer.
Mary, also awestruck at the twenty-eight-foot-high ceilings, the three-tiered swoop-arm brass chandelier and original inlaid parquet flooring, blinks around the room. ‘It’s even better than the library.’
My eyes freeze on a mirror above a small table.
My hair, once smoothed down with hairspray for the wedding sticks out at odd places, even after I tried brushing it at the hospital. Dark under-eye circles stand out under the chandeliers, stark against my pale skin. And even though it’s probably more expensive than anything else I’ve ever worn, Thomas’s T-shirt is wrinkled and damp from all my nervous sweating and fidgeting, the large size making me look malnourished and unfortunate.
I’m reminded of the childhood game – what doesn’t belong. If we were to play it now, the answer would be, without a doubt, me.
Story of my life.
‘You have a pet?’ For the first time since the name Moore was mentioned, the social worker sounds less than pleased.
All eyes move to Mary sitting in the middle of the foyer’s Persian rug, squeals in delight as her cheek is licked by none other than Mike Hunt.
* * *
Thomas
‘That is not a pet. It’s Satan’s sidekick.’
Four sets of eyes turn to me, the feline’s the most judgmental.
I stare down the hall in search of its owner. Because if the beast is here, that means my brother must be too. Which will complicate my life even more than the stupid feline Eskimo kissing a giggling child on my floor.
Ms al Abbas, her previous look of awe having vanished at the sight of the animated sack of bones, steps back from Mike as if he were a rattle snake. ‘I was not informed of any animals living in the residence.’
While everyone stares at the obscene creature, I move to the side. ‘I can assure you, that thing does not live here.’ If I can just reach Chase before he sees Mary and the social worker, I can blackmail him into silence. I have years’ worth of material at my disposal that I’m sure Chase would rather Bell not—
‘Why, hello.’
I freeze mid-step at the polished, lyrical voice reverberating from the top of the stairs.
Fuck.
Resigning myself as a man on the other end of a firing squad, I pivot on my heel and watch my mother descend the staircase like a Regency grand dame.
‘Whoa.’ Mary’s mouth drops open as she catches sight of my mother dressed in head-to-toe cashmere and diamonds.
Only Emily Elizabeth Moore would be brave enough to wear a cream cashmere suit in New York City.
I pinch my brow between thumb and pointer finger. It fucking hurts, but I welcome the pain. ‘What are you doing here, Mother?’ Taking a breath, I look up into her innocently blinking eyes. ‘I thought you were leaving for a cruise after Vegas?’
Unperturbed by my blatant irritation, Mother ignores me and rests her hands on Alice’s shoulders, kissing the air on either side of her. ‘Alice, dear. How wonderful to see you again so soon.’
My mind races, trying to come up with some excuse, some logical reason to manhandle my mother out the door before what I considered a decently thought-out plan to evict Alice from my life implodes into further chaos.
Mother’s eyes fall upon Mary, then move to the social worker whose expression is back to worship-mode.
