Page 60 of His Off-Limits Christmas Gift

“Damn, Rach. What a dress!” Brandon said, whistling as he came up to hug me.

“You can afford that?” Mom asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks. Thanks for that.”

“I’m just saying. You were only working here for a little while and the city is so expensive. Everything is so expensive here versus at home. I’m surprised is all.”

Brandon held my hand, making me do a twirl to show off the rich emerald and silver gown. I felt like a princess with the caress of the silky layers on my skin.

“How much did it cost?” Mom asked. She looked lovely in a dress, but nothing as fancy as mine.

“Mom,” I scolded. It was none of her business. Just like it wasn’t her business that Nate had bought it for me. He’d pamper and spoil me if I let him. At least this one was technically on sale.

“Are you splurging? Spending as a form of retail therapy?”

“Therapy from what?” I asked, losing my polite tone.

“From what?” she repeated incredulously. “From the breakup, of course.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled. My shoulders drooped. My heart felt heavy. Already, she was driving right to the attack.

“It wouldn’t be that farfetched that she’s reacting so harshly to Kyle dumping her that she’d go on a shopping spree she can’t afford,” Mom reasoned with Dad, who advised her to tone it down.

“I’m not,” I argued before she’d get carried away. Further in, the music changed to another song, much to the cheers of the crowd.

Where are you?I strained to find Nate. I was supposed to be here to support him, to help him. But here I was, needing his rescue.

“I’m not reacting harshly to what Kyle wanted,” I said, hoping, for the nth time, that she would hear me and let those words sink into her head.

“You’re not?” Mom challenged. She shook her head and looked at the ceiling, as if she’d find patience there. “You ran from home, hiding from the fact that Kyle didn’t want you anymore.”

I clenched my teeth, hating that she could be so closed-minded, so stuck in what she thought to ever comprehend that her speculations weren’t always right or accurate.

“You’ve got to be beside yourself with guilt?—”

I narrowed my eyes. “Guilt? What the hell would I ever have to be guilty about?” Being duped and led on? Lied to and dismissed?

“Something.” She pursed her lips. “You’ve got to be at fault and guilty for something, some reason Kyle ended it with you.”

“You arewrong.”

“Then why can’t you tell us why he broke up with you?” She flung her arms out. “Why? Why can’t you give us all an explanation?”

“Mom,” Brandon said, rolling his eyes. “Settle down.”

“No, I will not settle down. They were supposed to be engaged. Married. Together!”

“Just because you schemed that with Mrs. Jones when we were toddlers doesn’t mean it would happen,” I snapped.

“Then own up to it, Rachel. At least have the decency to tell us what you did wrong that made him reject you—at Thanksgiving dinner, of all times!”

I stared at her, knowing I would never, ever want to live at home again. This was too much. She was taking this too damn far.

“You had to have given him a damn good reason to end it then and there,” she nagged. “On a holiday!”

“Mom. Stop,” Brandon said.

Even Dad looked uncomfortable.

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