Page 86 of Meet Me at Midnight

“How’s your presentation for Midnight coming, Beau?” Neil asks, cutting a piece of turkey with his gold-bladed knife and sticking it in his mouth.

Beau clears his throat, his voice changing noticeably from the playful boy in the pillow fight to a businessman with his sights set on success. “It’s going well. We’ve had some holdups on the branding, but Laura told me they’ll have a finalized concept for the logo next week and three potential styles for the app design the week after that.”

“And your pitch? What about that? I assume you’re going for—”

“Neil,” Diane says on a groan, cutting her asparagus and shaking a piece of it toward him on the tip of her fork. “Do you think we could save this absolutely riveting shoptalk for another time?”

“Yeah,” Avery complains. “I’m not supposed to fall into a turkey coma untilafterthe meal.”

“Sorry,” Neil apologizes on a chuckle. “Beau and I can talk later.”

Diane nods, turning to me. “Where are your mom and dad these days, June?” Her voice is soft, compassion for what she already knows the answer will be in her tone.

I shrug. “Last I heard from her, she was headed to Bali. Something about the spiritually healing power of the SacredMonkey Forest Sanctuary and a hike on a volcano. Nothing like some monkeys and lava to help you find God, amirite?”

Beau snorts, but I don’t dare glance toward him. I feel too raw to do it without exposing everything I’m feeling for him and then some.

“And my dad and Lola are in Paris, I guess. At least, that’s what the postmark said on his latest gift.”

His latest gift that still sits in my purse.

“Is that why you’ve been clutching your purse like it’s got the jaguar’s eye from Jumanji in it?” Avery asks, her tone unnecessarily judgmental.

I don’t have anything to say to that; the sting of her words and the sad reality they’re referring to are too much for my pathetic heart. I look down at my small clutch, still slung over my shoulder, and drop it to the floor.

Avery, in a rare moment of self-awareness, apologizes. “Sorry, June. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I shake my head, and Beau’s hand reaches out to my leg again under the table, squeezing my thigh gently.

I feel itchy all over and like I’m going to come out of my skin. I take two deep breaths, but when they don’t do anything, I shove my chair back and stand, grabbing my purse from the floor once again. “Excuse me.”

Walking quickly, I make my way back to the half bathroom again, shutting the door behind me and leaning into the sink. I set my purse on the marble surface and stare at it for a long moment before prying it open. My heart beats fast beneath myribs as I rip off the packaging and tear into it, uncovering a Rolex box with a small note card on top.

I close my eyes briefly and turn over the card in my hand.

“One, two, three,” I whisper before opening my eyes to read it.

The scribbles are an immediate disappointment, my dad’s assistant’s handwriting so recognizable at this point, I know it almost better than my own.

I don’t know why I got my hopes up—what possessed me to think that this time might be different. I don’t know why I even fucking care. Like, it’s pretty damn clear my parents don’t give a shit about me. And even though things like Thanksgiving and Christmas and my birthday might be important to me, I’m not important to them.

I have to stop expecting them to change. I’m twenty-three years old, for fuck’s sake. How long am I going to keep hoping that one day they’ll both wake up and realize they actually love me and want to be a part of my life?

A single tear runs down my cheek, and I wipe at it furiously, pulling at the now-mottled red skin of my face. The door cracks open gently, and I swallow as another wave of emotion hits me square in the chest.

I’m expecting Avery or Diane. The sight of Beau, though—it breaks me.

“Shh,” he comforts as wetness coats my cheeks and my breathing stutters. He pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head in the same way he’s done more than once over the years.

“I just don’t understand,” I murmur into his chest, the feel of his racing heart beating against my eardrum. “Why did they have me if they don’t want anything to do with me? It’s not like they needed the tax deduction.”

“I don’t know, June. I don’t know at all. But I know you don’t deserve this.”

The door cracks open again, and this time, Avery pokes her head in. I cry harder, knowing how messed up everything is these days, and Beau shifts me into her arms and steps away.

Guilt eats at me for wanting to be back in his embrace, for wishing Avery wouldn’t have come in here, and for hiding all this shit in the first place.

I wonder what things would be like if I’d ever bothered to share with Avery just how much I’ve always liked her brother from the start. Would she have encouraged it? Or would what’s happening now be even worse and tangled up in more webs of lies?

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