Page 1 of Unbelievable You

Chapter One

Hunter

“I don’t know how many times I need to say this. I am not going to law school,” I said through clenched teeth. I’d said those exact words so many times. Perhaps saying them in another language would help? My best friend Cade was currently learning American Sign Language. Would that work?

My mother pursed her lips and put her fork down on her plate, her cobb salad left half-finished, all of the bacon and eggs shoved to the side.

Why did I keep agreeing to come to these lunches with her? It was a ritual I couldn’t seem to break myself out of. Along with going to charity events or country club weekends. Without fail, law school would come up.

“I just think—” she started to say, and I pushed my chair back. I’d barely touched my own salad. I’d only ordered it so she wouldn’t comment on my eating habits.

I couldn’t look directly at her. “I’m not doing this with you anymore. If you can’t accept my choices, then you can’t accept me. Give Dad my love.”

“Hunter,” she hissed, worried that I was going to make a scene. Oh no, a scene. The worst thing that could possibly ever happen to her.

Part of me imagined really making a scene. Screaming or yelling or flipping the table. But then everyone around us would have their day disturbed and the workers would have to clean everything up and they didn’t deserve that. So, threats of a scene were the best I could do under the current circumstances.

The sun was shining when I left the restaurant hungry. I thought about sending Cade or Reid a message that I needed them, but Cade was working and Reid was probably sleeping after her bartending shift at Sapph and I didn’t want to wake her up.

As I was contemplating my next move, my phone rang. My mother, of course. I ignored the call and started walking away from the restaurant and toward somewhere I could get a decent burger.

My parents liked to eat at the kinds of restaurants where the food was absolutely spectacular, but the portions were so minuscule that you got about one bite per course. I’d grown up used to dining that way, but nothing at those places could top a really good burger when you were ravenous.

Remembering that one of my favorite food trucks was probably still serving and parked not far away, I headed toward the park and was thrilled to find that the line wasn’t too long. Finally, something had gone right.

While I waited, I checked my social media pages. I had several that I had to manage. One for my yoga teaching business, one for my hair tutorials, one page for regular posts and my watercolor art, and then one for my closest friends. It was a lot to manage, but I’d developed a system and there was a plan for each one. My parents were absolutely horrified by my career choices. In truth, I didn’t need to work. My trust fund took care of most of my needs, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of not doing anything with my time. Or doing what my parents wanted me to do with my time. If they weren’t working, they were having pointless conversations over too-small portions or pretending to smile at people they hated during a charity auction while bidding on things they didn’t need and telling themselves they were contributing positively to society.

If they weren’t my parents, I wouldn’t have anything to do with them.

And then I’d remember that the reason I had a trust fund and could spend my time doing things like teaching yoga and making hair tutorials without worrying I was going to be homeless was because I was their daughter. There were struggles I would never have to face because of them and their money. My family’s money.

Someone cleared their throat and I realized I was next in line. I ordered my burger and then decided to eat it at one of the picnic tables. I slipped off my heels and let my feet rest in the cool grass. I’d worn a “family appropriate” outfit and I was already sweating and wishing I had brought a change of clothes. Most days I lived in yoga gear or my professional wardrobe if I was doing something for the real estate company, or casual clothes that I didn’t mind getting paint on. I also had a wardrobe for making videos, including sponsored items that I had tried and loved.

The clothing my parents deemed appropriate lived in the back of my closet and only came out when I had to see them. Most of it was void of color and only designers that my mother deemed acceptable. Boring. Boring and lifeless.

I almost grinned to myself when I managed to get a little grease spot on the tan skirt I’d worn.

When my stomach was finally satisfied, I put my shoes back on and headed back to my apartment.

I might have been able to stop my parents from forcing me to go to law school (up until now at least), but I hadn’t been able to get them to budge on where I was supposed to live. True, my apartment was spacious and beautiful, but it had been picked by my parents. At least I’d gotten to decorate it the way I wanted. And the floor-to-ceiling windows with the gorgeous city views in the living room didn’t hurt at all. But if I’d had my choice, I might have chosen differently.

Sighing, I kicked off my shoes and stripped out of my outfit on my way to the bathroom. Right now, I needed a bath and an edible. And maybe some cookies for after the edible hit.

Every time I had to see one or both of my parents, I kept a kind of emergency recovery kit stocked, which included plenty of frozen cookie dough ordered from one of my favorite bakeries up the coast in a tiny town called Castleton. Cade’s love language was cake, but I was all about cookies. Especially the ultimate s’mores cookies. Those were calling my name tonight. Comfort cookies.

I popped my edible, cringing at the taste, and preheated the oven before covering a cookie sheet with parchment paper and arranging the pre-formed balls of dough so they didn’t run together when baked.

My mother called again, but I ignored her. She sent me a terse text message saying that I needed to call her back and I wanted to tell her that I didn’t need to do anything. That I could choose one day to cut off contact with her and Dad. I didn’t want to. As much as they irritated me, I did love them. Just in small doses. Smaller doses than they thought were acceptable. I might be a grown woman, but they still treated me like I belonged to them and had to do everything they said.

The oven went off and I shoved in the tray of cookies before heading to the bathroom to decide which bath bomb I wanted to use from my collection. I put a movie on my tablet and once the cookies were done, I filled the tub.

Should I have reached out to Cade? I knew she would have dropped everything to come and be my friend and therapist after lunch with my mother. But she had so much going on now. She was happy, and I didn’t want to be a cloud in her sky. No, it was better for me to handle my family on my own, the way I had my whole life.

My parents had probably wanted more children, but it hadn’t worked out, no matter how much money and time they had spent trying for their spare. Nope, they got me, an ungrateful bitch who refused to carry on their legal career legacy.

I had gone along with the program getting a business degree, but that was where it ended, and they’d been furious ever since.

Sighing, I sunk into the bath and rested my head on an inflatable pillow as I shoved a cookie in my mouth. My edible had finally kicked in, and I was languid, warm, and unbothered.

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