Page 125 of Cashmere Cruelty

In that moment, Charlie comes back with his overnight bag. He watches the scene with a confused expression, which confirms for me that he’s caught nothing of the last few exchanges.Good.If Eleanor’s grown any wiser in the last three minutes, she’ll keep the details to herself.

If not, I doubt Charlie will mind.

“I don’t have to stand here and take this.” Eleanor quivers, face red with rage. “Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m out of this shithole.”

And she storms right out.

“What happened?” Charlie rushes over.

“Just made a couple of things clear,” I answer. “As for you…”

Charlie straightens up, as if expecting a blow of some kind.Some mother, I find myself thinking bitterly.Her kids flinch and cringe whenever she’s close enough to touch them.

“Feel free to stay as long as you need,” I finish.

April finally snaps back to reality. “Yes!” she agrees wholeheartedly. “If you don’t want to go back?—”

“No.” Charlie shakes his head, smiling faintly. “I… Thank you. But I’d better go after her. You know how she gets.”

April gives an understanding nod.

The look on their faces is one I recognize. I’ve seen it often enough on Yuri as a kid—chopping wood, making dinner. I’ve seen it even longer in my own mirror. It’s the look of a child forced to grow up too soon.

Though, in our cases, our mothers didn’t have the choice to spare us.

“Thank you for everything,” Charlie says again, holding out a hand to me.

I give it a firm shake. “If you change your mind, call.”

He nods. “I will.”

Then it’s April’s turn. He looks at her with a hangdog frown. “Sorry for making a mess,” Charlie adds sheepishly.

She crushes him into a hug. “Promise you’ll visit.”

“Okay,” he swears. “Lemme know when the little one’s popped, yeah?”

“Deal.”

Then Charlie’s out, too, chasing after his harpy of a mother, who’s still screaming bloody murder in the hallway.

Just like that, we’re alone again.

Shit. That’s my first thought. Did I really just threaten April’s mother? Right in front of her? After she asked me tolet her handle it?

I search my mind for regret. I find none. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.

That woman was going to strike her.

And no one touches what’s mine.

But I can’t imagine April’s thrilled with me right now. “I should go, too.” I clear my throat. “Work. People to see.”

It’s the flimsiest excuse I’ve ever used—it’s not even 8:00 A.M.—but I figure I should give her space. To… process. Or whatever it is normal people do.

I’m almost out the door when?—

“Wait.”

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