Page 57 of Exile and Embrace

“No. I have nothing to say to her. The executor said that the will put me in charge of planning a reading. I don’t know why Dad thought that we all needed some sort of party to read his will. He wants the reading down and then a big party afterward. Something to celebrate his life.”

“Who is the executor anyway?”

She scoffs. “Some asshole named Carter from his office. According to what Carter is willing to tell me, Dad thought it would be better if nobody close to him had to read out where his belongings were going.”

I reach up for the necklace, twisting the little diamond heart on the end.

Dad gave it to me when I was in high school.

Even though I know I should take it off now that I know part of who he was, I can’t bring myself to do it.

It’s the one memory I have of him that isn’t tainted with all the other things that he's done to destroy the family.

I drop the heart. “Are you going to be alright in a room with Mom again?”

Christian says something in the background that I don’t quite catch.

Zoe’s voice is muffled, likely by her hand over the phone as she replies to him.

“I don’t know, Aves. I like to think that I’ve put all that in the past, and that I can see her and not want to lose my shit. I want to believe that, but I don’t know if I can. Is it wrong to say that you hate your mother? Because that’s how I feel a lot these days, especially dealing with this.”

Guilt creeps through me. After everything our father did to Zoe, she shouldn’t have to be the one to organize his will reading. She shouldn’t have to deal with any of this and still have to dodge our mother.

“I’m sorry that I’m not there to help.” I take another sip of coffee as the last of the fog is chased away. “Let me know if there is anything I can do from here, and I’ll get it done for you.”

Zoe clicks her tongue. “Nope. Nothing I can think of. Just focus on what you need to do, Aves. I promise that I’m good here. Billie and Hadley have helped with as much as they can. Christian is keeping Alessio and Jovan out of my hair. Everything is fine.”

“Okay. As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” The noise in the background gets softer as a door shuts. “Now, tell me. How are you doing out there?”

As much as I want to tell her everything that I’ve found, she doesn’t want to hear it. Zoe has made it clear that she wants as little as possible to do with our parents and their pasts.

I have to respect that, even if I want to spill everything I’ve found to her.

Instead, I keep it to myself.

“Everything is going well. I spend most of the days I’m not busy with Brooklyn.”

“That’s the artist, right?” Zoe sighs.

I can picture her right now, running a hand through her hair. Her face is likely pinched with stress that she’s trying to let go.

She’s desperate to distract herself with my life, asking questions she already knows the answer to.

Our calls may be infrequent, but we spend most of our days texting on and off. I’ve even sent her pictures of Brooklyn’s work.

If this is how she wants to avoid everything else going on in her life, I’m more than happy to oblige.

I cross one leg over the other and lean back, getting comfortable. “Yeah. She is the artist. I keep thinking that maybe I should learn to paint one day. I’m already pretty good with my hands.”

Zoe’s laugh is music to my ears. “You’re horrible at painting. Great at sewing people up.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right about that. It looks like painting a masterpiece that someone hangs in a museum is going to be out of the question for a while. What a shame too. I was looking forward to being the next Picasso.”

“Funny. And how is everything going with Finn?”

“It’s alright. He’s been at work for most of the night, so I’m sure that when he walks in, he’s going to head straight for bed.”

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