Page 3 of Forbidden Romeo

If only my father hadn’t cheated on her.

With my acting professor.

I couldn’t prove a damn thing, of course, but something in my gut told me Mom knew.

And though she didn’t mean to kill herself by popping so many pills and drowning them in gin, she never seemed to care one way or another if she lived or died.

It finally caught up with her.

The only reason it hadn’t caught up with her sooner was because I’d always been there in the past to pick up the pieces. I was always there to carry her to the bathroom. To make sure she vomited. To hold her hair back and keep her hydrated.

Guilt edged its way into my gut. It had always been my job to care for her. I should have called more. I should have checked in. Especially when I saw Dad and Professor McCay together.

If I couldn’t even keep my own mother safe, how could I ever be a good partner to Katherine?

Dad cleared his throat, pulling me from my dark thoughts as he handed me the still warm Pyrex dish. “Yes, thank you Mrs. Lawrence,” I finally said after another one of my father’s warning glares.

“Megan actually made it, you know,” Mrs. Lawrence said, looking at her daughter with a proud smile. “She’s graduating from culinary school next year after a...” Mrs. Lawrence’s gaze snagged on my father. Uneasy silence stitched the seconds together until she finally said, “After a gap year.”

Coming up on four years of culinary school and yet a pulled pork casserole was the best she could do?

Dad smiled down at her like he hadn’t set out only a few years ago to destroy us. Like he hadn’t been the sole reason for the demise of our relationship. “Wow, congratulations, Megan. Well done. Sometimes a break is just what we need to get our heads on straight, isn’t it?”

She eyed him briefly, eyes narrowed and guarded. “Thanks,” she said. “After I transferred, I really found myself, you know?”

She shifted her glare to me as she spoke.

Fucking hell. Not that my dad and I didn’t deserve her hostility. But maybe my fucking mother’s funeral wasn’t the time or place.

“Holden, why don’t you and Megan bring the casserole inside while I get Mrs. Lawrence a drink.”

I swallowed my sigh and nodded. “Come on in, Meg.”

This was how it went all evening. People came by to ‘pay their respects.’ And if it was a kid my age, my dad sent us away to hang out in the basement. Then when the doorbell rang, it was my cue to run back upstairs for a quick greeting. To get hugged. Cried on. And told what a great woman Mom was.

“How are you holding up?” Megan asked as she followed me into the kitchen.

I yanked the handle of the fridge, and all the items on the door clattered together loudly.

“Fine,” I muttered, scooting the eight other casserole dishes around to try to make room for one more.

“Holden.” Her hand fell to my waist, long fingernails pressing little half-moon shapes into the cotton of my black button-down shirt. “I know I haven’t seen you in years but come on. Talk to me.”

Of course I’m not fine. My fucking mom died.

Still facing the fridge, a knot unfurled in my chest as I heard her soft exhale. “What are you doing here, Meg?” I asked quietly, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was listening. Last we spoke, I told her to run far the fuck away from me and never look back. To which she replied: Happily.

“My mom made me come.” Meg took a step away from me, leaning the small of her back against the granite kitchen island. “She still thinks you and I are meant to be. Like somehow if I marry you, I’ll end up the next Jackie fucking Kennedy.”

Almost on cue, she smoothed her silky brown hair knotted in a tight bun at the nape of her neck.

I slid a glance across the room to where Mrs. Lawrence and my dad were still chatting near the bar cart. “Does your mom not know?—”

Meg snorted. “She knows… enough. She just doesn’t care.”

God, these fucking people. All of them. Meg’s mom. My dad. Professor McCay. Was there something about becoming an adult that made you smash your moral compass?

Katherine flashed in my thoughts momentarily, and not for the first time this evening. Talk about a moral compass, of everyone I’d ever met, Katherine was the best. The most honest. The sweetest. The least likely to take any bullshit from anyone.

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