When the bartender hands me my glass, I finish off most of its contents in one gulp. There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to prepare me for this conversation.
“Did he now?” I ask, turning toward her.
My father appears behind her, placing a hand on her hip. “Leni. Amazing event tonight,” he tells me, his eyes scanning the room, no doubt looking for the quickest exit. He balked at coming, said it would be a pain in the ass with all of the security he’d have to bring.
“I certainly can’t complain,” I respond, returning my glass to the bartender for a refill.
“I’m sure you could’ve managed to find one more seat,” my mother says haughtily.
Taking my glass and stepping away from the bar, I drop my voice, ensuring that my words are delivered to no one other than my parents. “Mathis Perry will never be invited again. He will never be a part of my life again. Remember that.”
“You say that now, but—”
“No, Mother,” I growl.
She casts a glance to the left, and I quickly look around to make sure no one heard me. There aren’t a ton of people still here, but I don’t want to take any chances.
“Whatever it is you’re about to say, forget it,” I whisper. “I will not take him back. I won’t even be cordial when I see him. He’s nothing to me.”
Her eyes grow wide, shooting daggers. “You will be cordial to him—”
“Why should I?” I hiss. “What has he done to earn my respect?”
My father seems completely oblivious to our argument, his attention drawn to something else in the room.
“Why should you? How about because his father has been a huge source of support for your father’s campaign,” she sneers, shaking her head. “If he pulls his contribution, your father and Joseph could lose the election. Is that what you want?” she asks.
Oh my God. My stomach rolls. I knew my mother was self-centered, looking out for what’s best for her and my father, but I didn’t think she’d stoop to this level.
“Is that why you want us back together so bad? Because you’re afraid Joseph won’t pay for Daddy’s precious campaign?” Wrinkling my nose, I shake my head. “I can’t believe you. You care about some stupid election more than your own daughter.”
“Keep your voice down,” she admonishes. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I am not being dramatic,” I hiss, so frustrated I don’t give a damn who hears me. This is my event anyway. “I’m pissed. You don’t give a damn about what I want and what’s right for me. You’re all about the money and the social status, and that’s not who I am.”
“It is who you are—”
“You don’t know who I am.” Desperate for a breath of fresh air, I hike up my skirt and weave through the ballroom. I don’t stop until I’m in the courtyard, at which time I double over and suck in a deep breath.
How could my mother be so heartless?
Who am I kidding? I knew she was like that; she’s proven it time after time. But I can’t help it. She’s my mother, and I wanted to believe that somewhere in that cold heart of hers was a place for me.
It’s obvious now that I was wrong. She’s never going to change, and I can’t be a part of this family—of this life—anymore. This life isn’t for me. And my parents, even Brenna—they’ll never be the family I need them to be.
I stand up straight, resolve settling deep in my bones. I went to Heaven to try to find myself, to prove that I could be who I want to be, and I’ve done that. If I’m being honest, I did it even before I went to Heaven. I’ve created a thriving charity, and I’ve built up a portfolio of dresses that people are showing quite a bit of interest in. And I’ve done it on my own, mostly from the comfort of my living room, whether that living room was in New York or Texas.
So where does that leave me now? One thing I know for certain, I don’t want it to leave me here. I don’t want New York to be my home. Getting my own space, away from my parents and so-called friends is imperative to my well being. Just because I can’t have a life with Noah and Nova doesn’t mean I can’t make my life what I want it to be. I’m through with letting others control me. I can do this.
I take a deep breath and smile, happy to have a plan. I’ll take my time, find somewhere that’ll suit me.
Somewhere like Heaven.
I close my eyes at the thought of Heaven, wondering what Noah and Nova are doing right this second. She’s probably having a tea party, and he’s—
“Lennon.”
Oh great, now I’m hearing Noah’s voice. Am I truly, finally losing it? Pressing my hands to my ears, I rub, trying to drown out the sound, but then a large, warm hand lands on my back, shooting a spark straight up my spine.