Page 17 of The Penalty

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t mind my asking, where will you be?”

“Manhattan.”

“Perfect.” Something that looked like a smile teased his mouth for a second. “We have offices in Times Square. I’ll have Chloe set up the photoshoot there. We’ll circle back in a few days with dates.”

“Brilliant.” I stood up, escorting them to the door. While I enjoyed running my own brand management company and securing my own partnerships and endorsements, I could do without the corporate speak. If one more person tells me they’ll circle back, my head will explode.

It’s my own fault for insisting I could take this meeting without my business partner. But I suppose his honeymoon is a reasonable excuse to be on holiday.

I flinched.

Marriage.

Christ.

I sat down heavily at my desk.

Not something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about nor is it something I’ve ever considered. I never even liked it when a one night stand wanted to spend the night. I’d always ask them to leave. Politely, of course.

Well, except for the night I invited Victoria to stay…

My stepmother’s name popped up when my phone started ringing.

I greeted her with as much cheer as I could muster these days.

“Are you busy tonight, Xavier? I can never keep track of what you’re up to these days.”

“I’m not busy.”

“I made cottage pie for dinner. Your favorite. Feel like stopping by?”

Not really played on the tip of my tongue. Rebecca would be the sole reason I’d consider going. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known and always treated me as her son.

With the way I’ve been feeling the past couple weeks, maybe seeing her wouldn’t suck.

“You said the magic words. Set a place for me. I’ll see you later.”

Scars are weird things. They come in many sizes, shapes, and colors. But those are only the visible ones. The ones people stare at and ask how’d you get that? And if the scar is really big and really ugly, it’s generally expected that a fantastical story will follow about how it came to be.

I knew mine would be a conversation starter. Part of me loved that aspect of it.

The other thing with scars is not all of them are as clear as the jagged line above my eye.

Some can’t be seen. Some are so deep, so ugly, so painful, that they hide in the depths of a person.

They never heal. They scab over until the inevitable moment it rips open.

Sitting at the dinner table with my father and stepmother was one of those moments.

Not because my mum wasn’t alive. I’d dealt with that growing up. Therapy started young with me. Funny thing about it? I reconciled any guilt I had about my mother’s death faster than I’ve been able to deal with the anger that’s been festering inside me.

Tonight’s overwhelming burden wasn’t anger. It was the persistent cloud of feeling inadequate.

“Big match this weekend,” Rebecca gushed. “Think you’ll win it all again?”

“That’s the plan.”

I didn’t have to ask if they were coming to watch. They were. Surprising, since my dad showed minimal interest in my career. But Adam was playing too, so, you know, have to support the family and all that.

---