Page 89 of InfraRed

I nod in agreement, lifting my eyes just as Henry appears with the two guys from Masters’ table behind him. He slaps Liam and I on the shoulder. “Are we friends now?”

“Not quite,” Liam mutters.

“Let’s just say we’ve reached a mutual understanding.” I spot Jagger heading for the back patio and nod at both of them after ensuring Casey is talking contentedly with her friends. “If you gentlemen will excuse me.”

“Actually, I—we need to talk to you,” Henry tells me, earning a suspicious glare from Liam.

I look toward the door and back at him. “Can you give me a few minutes?”

When he nods, I walk through the ballroom toward the doors. Itisn’t the time or place, but it’s time for little brother to talk.

Casey

Iwas forced to attend dozens of functions like this when I was younger. Before I moved out, Mom thought it was a crime if she wasn’t invited, and when she was, it was a spectacle. It’s how my nightmares of being whispered and talked about began. All the women would hide behind their hands and point, talking about me just because I was her daughter.

Each party was worse than the last as Mom’s reputation grew, and as other girls my age began attending, the bullying became relentless. My mother was the gold-digging whore who took advantage of the grieving widower. I hate how I never fully grasped that until recently, but I see now they were right. I just wish I understood Mom. What possesses her to be how she is? Why does she not see the pain she inflicts on others? What did I do wrong for her to treat me as she did?

I suppose it’s why I developed an aversion to dressing a certain way. She would force me into the tiniest, tightest materials. It was already difficult to buy dresses that didn’t make me feel exposed, but she would have me in things that should’ve been shirts, not dresses. Which was why we fought the night I overheard her.

But it was Mom who caused the ridicule I endured from the other girls. I was her daughter, so I must be like her, right? They were relentless and cruel, except, of course, when they wanted to use me to get to Jagger. Or Graham.

Tonight is different. Maybe it’s because I’m with myfriends. They know me, encourage me, and love me. We’ve laughed hard tonight. Sipped our drinks and danced. It’s been wonderful.

Maybe it’s Dad and Uncle Henry being here that puts me at ease. The security they offer. The way Uncle Henry told me I looked grown up. And Dad… he danced with me, telling me the entire time how proud he is of me. I may have cried.

Who am I kidding? Tears are my pastime. I sobbed.

But the biggest difference is Graham. Even when he wasn’t sitting next to me, I felt his eyes all night. The fear and nervousness I felt about being seen together dissipated. I’m sure it’s because it’shim,but not a single whisper has been uttered. The mask vanished about half an hour ago because it was giving me a headache, and yet, I’ve been met with nothing but warm smiles and kind eyes. No doubt because they don’t want to anger the man that many fawn over, hoping he will give them the time of day—and his money.

Even now, as I stand in the ladies’ room washing my hands, the other women who have come in and out have smiled.

Perhaps these are just different people who have no idea who my mom is or who I am.

The doors open again as I’m drying my hands. I toss my paper towel in the trash and turn to leave, freezing when I meet eyes the exact shade as mine.

I hate the cold sweat that trickles down my spine at the sight of her. My hands shake. My bottom lip trembles. Air won’t reach my lungs, making my chest burn. My heart is jackhammering against my ribs. She shouldn’t be able to frighten me like this anymore, but the reaction she invokes is immediate.

She wasn’t invited to this event. Graham told me he checked before he accepted the invitation. “M-Mom, wh-what are you d-doing here?” I wish my voice didn’t quake or squeak, revealing the power she still holds over me.

“I am here with a friend and we’re staying on the other side of the resort. We came here for dinner in the restaurant, and I needed the restroom.” She bats her overdone false eyelashes at me as she tries to manipulate me with faux innocence.

My stomach turns with wariness. There’s no way she just happened to be here. Knowing she wasn’t on the guest list makes me wonder what kind of scene she will cause. But I also wonder why she’s cornering me. “You came to the restaurant and bathroom on the other side of the resort?”

“The food here is better.” She waves her dagger-like nails as if it’s common sense.

My mom is thirty-five, almost thirty-six, but all the surgeries have aged her instead of having the opposite effect. Her lips are too full, and her skin is too tight. The implants in her already high cheekbones make her face too sharp, and the three nose jobs have left her without much of one. It physically hurts me to look at her because she was so beautiful before she did this to herself. When I was little, I hoped I would look more like her when I grew up.

When I look in the mirror, I do see some of her. My big, wide eyes the same shade as hers. My high cheeks and small chin, but otherwise, I look like Dad.

“Again, you just happened to choose the restaurant here?” I lift a brow, feeling bolder, and cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine,” she huffs, waving those talons in the air again. “I was sitting down the way, waiting for you because I knew you were here. I need to talk to you, but you won’t answer my calls.”

Her calls? I haven’t received a call or text from her in weeks. Not since Graham replaced the phone I threw over my balcony.I assumed she’d either given up or decided I wasn’t worth her time.

Oh, that sneaky, slippery, beautiful snake of a man.

“I haven’t gotten any calls or messages, but if I had, I wouldn’t have answered. I love you, Mom.” It’s the truth. I love her more than she’ll ever know, despite everything. It’s not something I can turn off. “But I can’t love myself and have a relationship with you.”

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