Page 59 of Not Quite Perfect

“Can you call them and cancel?” she asked, turning away from me.

That was the other thing. She hadn’t spoken to her brothers in a number of days. Even though they’d called practically non-stop—and in Drew’s case, even stopped by—she’d shut herself off from them.

We were all becoming worried.

“Sorry, no can do. All the food has been bought, and everyone’s expecting us to feed them.”

She groaned again. “Just tell them to go to our mother’s house.”

“They’re coming here. It’s all arranged.”

She sat up and stretched her arms above her head with a yawn, revealing a giant ice cream stain on the front of her faded Omar t-shirt that I recognized as pistachio ice cream. She’d taken to eating it straight out of the carton—practically the only thing she would eat these days. “Okay, fine. But I’m not showering until I’m done cooking. I don’t want to smell.”

That sounded reasonable. Except, my girl could really use a shower. Now.

Ever since the night our parents had shown up at my house on Dobber’s Island, things had gone from bad to worse. A few days ago, Alex had finally confessed that their mom had told Victoria that as long as she and I were together, she was no longer welcomed at family events.

Never—not once in all my years—had I ever wanted to cause physical, bodily harm to another person, but if Veronica Witherspoon Carstairs had been standing in front of me when I’d heard the gist of those messages, I would have gladly shaken some sense into her. Or died trying.

I was under no illusions that Victoria’s current state was a direct result of the appalling way her mother had been treating her. I’d spoken to my father a couple of times since that night, but he seemed clueless when it came to dealing with his wife. The most I’d gotten from him was a tepid, “I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

Well, it hadn’t blown over … but it needed to, and fast.

And if my father or Victoria’s brothers weren’t going to do something about it, I certainly was.

“Hey, why don’t you hop in the shower? I’m going to run out and grab some molasses for the pie. I just realized I forgot it when I went to the store yesterday.”

Victoria waved me away as she dropped back down onto the mattress with anoof. “Sounds good. I’ll see you when you get back.”

I rose to my feet and stared down at her, helplessness churning in my gut. I might be overstepping my bounds, but I couldn’t stand by and watch the woman I loved sinking further and further into the pits of despair.

It was time for a conversation with her mother.

* * *

“Oh! Hello, David.”Veronica glanced over her shoulder, obviously hoping my dad was behind her. He wasn’t. “If um … if you wait right there, I’ll go get your father.”

When she moved to close the front door on me, I brushed past her and into the foyer. I didn’t bother mentioning that she’d been about to leave me standing outside in the snow instead of inviting me into what was my father’s home as well. It seemed prudent that if I wanted to win her over, I shouldn’t start by calling her out on her bullshit.

That would come later.

“I’m here to see you, actually.”

“You are? I can’t imagine why.” Her eyes darted toward my father’s office.

Or, at least, that’s what he called it. The truth was he’d been retired for almost ten years, so it was really just a place for him to hole up by himself and smoke his stupid cigars in peace.

“Really? You can’t imagine why your daughter’s boyfriend would show up on your doorstep wanting to have a word with you?”

“HowisVictoria?” she called out over her shoulder as she made her way to the bar, her hands shaking as she poured herself a small glass of sherry.

I followed her into the room, watching her fidget uncomfortably. The longer it took me to reply, the more twitchy she became. It would have been fun to see how far I could push her, but Victoria’s well being was on the line.

“How do you think she’s doing?”

Roni lifted her chin, a gesture I’d seen Victoria do many times. It was uncanny; mother and daughter really were spitting images of one another. It was somewhat unnerving to have this glimpse into what Victoria would look like when we were in our sixties. And yes, I planned being around then.

But first, I needed her mother to press pause on her campaign of guilt and silence. Because if these two didn’t patch things up, Victoria would grow to resent me and the rift I’d caused with her family. She might have chosen me in the short term, but in the long term, it was clear her heart was breaking. If forced to choose again, I wasn’t entirely certain I’d come out on top.

---