Kate

It wassafe to say the night was a success. Violet had damn near lost her shit when Caroline arrived. Well, on the surface, she was very cool, calm and collected, but I noticed the smalls signs that she was ‘fangirling,’ as she would put it.

Likewise with Freya, who I had realized long ago had a very popular YouTube that Violet adored.

Both had reactions similar to Macy, both hugging Violet tightly, speaking to her as if they’d known her for years, complimenting her on her beauty, her style, her sense of adventure.

Violet settled into the group like she was born into it. I watched her carefully throughout the night, interacting with everyone, smiling and laughing easily, contributing to conversation with confidence and joy. She lit up, and everyone else around her did the same. It was impossible not to.

It brought tears to my eyes and a smile to my face. I’d never seen Violet like this. Snatches, sure, when she was with her girlfriends, or when it was just me and her. But never in large crowds. Never at whatever party or event she was required to attend. Violet was strong-willed for sure, never one to act based on other people’s expectations. Or so I’d thought.

How blind I’d been was painfully clear, seeing Violet come alive around people who didn’t burden her with expectations. She’d acted a certain way because despite her strong beliefs, she loved her father. Wanted him to be proud of her.

And in doing so, she’d shrunk herself. Not in the exact same way I had, but in a way that made my belly ache. In a way that solidified my decision to tell her the truth.

The night didn’t last as long as it normally would’ve, presumably because everyone sensed there was a conversation that needed to be had between me and my daughter. And because everyone had children to get home to. Because Hades was apparently ‘done’ with Freya being on her feet and flitting around the party in six-inch heels with her small baby bump visible under the tight dress she wore.

We all said goodbyes with promises to meet at Oliver’s for brunch. All the women hugged Violet warmly, and after she got over the shock of such easy and natural affection from adults, she hugged them back.

Then it was time.

Swiss was cleaning up the kitchen, and Violet was walking around the room, looking at framed photos I’d placed everywhere. Freya was big on taking photos, so even before Preston’s arrival, there were a bunch of us all together, of candid ones she’d taken of Swiss and I at various parties.

He’d been the one to put the first picture up. It was at the pool party, the infamous one when Preston had called me. In the photo, I was in my bikini, his arms were around me, about to lift us both into the pool. I was laughing, his eyes were on me, serious and loving.

It was my favorite photo of us, evidence that he knew how to make me smile, laugh, hours after the phone call that had shaken me to my core.

I wondered what was going through Violet’s mind. She was used to curated, posed, professional photos in matching frames, placed purposefully throughout the house. Not ones like this. Not ones where her mother was laughing in a bikini in the arms of another man. She was witnessing a whole other life I’d lived in the short time she’d been gone. I couldn’t imagine how jarring that must be.

She was moving slowly, and I could see the exhaustion in her body. She’d flown halfway across the world, driven almost an hour on unfamiliar roads, and then waded into my brand new life.

As much as I wanted her to be able to drift off to sleep without this knowledge, I knew her too well to think that she’d go off to bed without answers.

Swiss knew what I was going to do since I’d pulled him aside earlier in the night to quickly explain my intentions. Unsurprisingly, he’d supported me. Unsurprisingly, his eyes had gone dark with rage at yet more carnage that Preston had unleashed. More pain.

I knew he wasn’t going to go anywhere, let me out of eyesight as I told my daughter news that would change her life.

He gave us privacy, but he remained nearby. In case I needed him.

I loved him immensely for that, but this was something I needed to do without his help.

The walk from the kitchen to the sofa was one of the longest and hardest in my life.

“Normally, I’m not one to slam tequila shots with my underage daughter.” I laid two shots on coasters on the coffee table.

Violet turned from the bookshelves to look at me. Her eyes went to Swiss in the kitchen then back. She was still a little wary around him, understandably, but he was winning her over. It was impossible not to. He hadn’t schooled his affection with me, hadn’t toned it down for the sake of my daughter. The entire night, he’d absently laid kisses on the side of my head, took dishes from my hands when I’d tried to clean up, pulled me onto his lap when I walked by. Violet had seen all of this, and I’d watched her scrunch her nose in confusion, trying to process it. She had not witnessed easy and genuine affection like that before, because I’d never experienced it until Swiss.

I patted the cushion for Violet to sit.

“What I’m about to tell you isn’t going to go down smooth, so I want to give you this to soften the edges.” I chewed my lips. “If that’s even possible.”

“You’re scaring me, Mom,” Violet said gravely.

My insides shredded. “I know, baby, and I hate it,” I whispered.

I lifted the shot glasses, handing her one. She took it, and we both stared at each other for a tick before downing them.

The burn was the only thing on my mind for a split second, and it was a welcome respite. But it didn’t last for long.

Tags: Anne Malcom Romance
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