Page 70 of The Consequence of Loving Me

Before this recent retreat home, I didn’t let my mom touch me. But over the last month, we’ve formed a better relationship. For some reason, she hasn’t pressured me about why I came back. And I’ve appreciated it. It’s helped us grow closer, together—close enough that I don’t back away from her touch anymore.

I let out a long sigh, wishing I had an honest answer for her. The more I think about it, the more I want to return to Kansas. To go back to the place that had started to feel like home, a fresh start for me. But another part of me—a large part—worries what I might do if I see Maverick again. And I know I would see him if I go back there. That campus is so small, there’s no way around it.

“I don’t know, Mom.” My words cut off as I try to come up with the best answer and fall short.

She purses her pink lips. I can tell she wants to pester me with questions—questions I won’t answer. Her cold hand squeezes mine. “I support whatever decision you make, Veronica. I hope you know that.”

I’m nodding my head at her when my father walks into our large kitchen and says, “Are my two favorite ladies ready to go?” He’s fiddling with his cuff links as he walks toward us.

We’re all ready to go to a charity function at their country club. A function that benefits the charity Connor’s parents created in his name, providing free ocean safety classes for the youth in our area.

I can’t lie and say I’m not nervous to face his parents for the first time. But it’s something I need to do.

When I came home, I started seeing my therapist again.

After cussing him out a few times, and sobbing—or both at the same time—he finally got me to realize that, for me to heal and move on from Connor’s death, I had to face Mr. and Mrs. Liams.

So, here I am, standing in a black evening gown ready to address my past. My palms are sweating, and the slippery fabric of my dress doesn’t help when I try to wipe them off. I feel like I could throw up at any moment as I climb into the black limo my father rented for the night.

When I get inside the sleek vehicle, I slide in right next to my mom. There’s enough room with my dad across from us for me to be in my own space. At twenty, I still need my mother’s calm composure in a time like this.

She doesn’t hesitate to take my hand in hers. Her fingers squeeze mine tightly as the limo pulls away from our driveway.

“We probably haven’t said this enough to you, Veronica,” my father begins, his thumb flicking over his gold cuff links, “but we are proud of you. So proud.” His blue eyes—the same as mine—stare at me as he enunciates every word he’s saying. “You’ve been through a lot and we wish you would’ve let us shoulder some of the pain you’ve endured, but even all alone, you’ve come out the other side. It takes strength to go through something that’s meant to break you and only come out stronger. We’re proud of you.”

My mom nods her head next to me. “You’re so strong. Please don’t forget that.” She runs a hand over my styled hair; the hair that two women had come hours ago to do, as well as my mom’s.

My long, blonde strands fall down my shoulders in loose curls. I have one side tucked behind my ear, showing off a pair of diamond earrings. All I can do is nod my head, pulling my red bottom lip to chew on as I remind myself not to cry. I hate that I was weak and ran home, but I have to admit, it’s been nice spending time with my parents again.

I’m done playing the part of a spoiled brat. I just want to be Veronica again. A little bit spoiled, a little bit bitchy. But I don’t want to be a brat anymore for the sake of scaring people away.

My stomach lurches when the limo comes to a stop in front of the club. The ride went by too fast. I start to choke on the air in the limo that smells like perfume and cologne.

I’m not ready to go in there.

“You’ve got this, Veronica Rose Cunningham,” my mom says. “I promise you that the Liams are excited to see you. I think this will go so much better than you’re imagining.” My mom stares into my eyes for a moment longer before she takes my dad’s outstretched hand and steps out of the limo.

I release a long burst of air, my mind giving me an internal pep talk. My lips spread in a plastered fake smile before I extend my high-heeled clad foot from the limo and get out.

My eyes take in the scene before me.

Holy fuck. Pray for me.

39

Veronica

I look up at the stairs that lead to the country club I’ve been coming to since I was in diapers. The railings are decorated in garland, reminding me that Christmas is in a week.

I follow my mom and dad up the stairs without thinking too hard about it. I’m too focused on taking in my surroundings. There’s a huge banner of Connor’s face next to a person with a clipboard at the entrance. My throat starts to close with emotion as I stare at Connor’s smiling face. He’s standing in front of the ocean. The same ocean we’ve all played in our whole lives.

The same ocean that took him from me.

My eyes avert from the banner, I can’t look at it for another second without bursting into tears. The man at the door runs his finger down the clipboard in his hand, looking for our names. Once he finds them, he gives us a smile and motions for us to walk in.

I don’t even know where to look first when we walk through the entrance. The club has been decorated beautifully. It seems like we’re in a winter wonderland. White and blue decorations fill almost every space. White for winter, blue for the ocean and the main color of the charity in Connor’s name.

It’s so beautiful it makes me gasp. I’m aimlessly following my mom to our table when I spot the Liams from across the room, and my feet stop. I don’t realize a woman’s behind me until her champagne sloshes all over her. The nasty words she mumbles don’t even register in my mind because I’m too busy staring at the parents of the boy I used to love.

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