Page 6 of Reckless Temptation

The expression reached his eyes, though, unlike my mother’s attempt.

Fuck.I sat and wondered if my mother was sinking back into another depressive spiral.

Grief could be weird.

And as she proved time and time again, it could be tenacious.

“Hi, Nick,” Tiffany said politely.

“Hey,” I replied to the stepsister I tolerated. “Sorry to keep y’all waiting.”

“No worries, Nick. We weren’t waiting,” George replied.

I exhaled a breath of relief, but I couldn’t “relax”. Not yet. Besides how tense I felt in this place to begin with, like an outsider who didn’t belong, I couldn’t let go of my instant suspicion that my mother was acting funny again. She was getting too damn good at masking her inner turmoil, but it wasup to me to look out for her, to read her and know when she was struggling.

But it’s not like I can do anything to fix it.I reached for my glass of water and sipped it, settling in to endure another so-called family dinner.

Like usual, Mom stayed quiet.

And like usual, I said not a fucking thing unless George asked me a question.

Sometimes, he’d pepper me with questions so that I’d feel like I was being interrogated, like a witness on the stand in court. Or he’d speculate and lecture, as if I were a student in his class. Other times, he’d bore me with suggestions about how I can figure out what to do with my life.

Tonight, though, it seemed I was spared because his precious princess was hogging his attention.

All while I ate, I watched how my mother didn’t. She merely pushed food around on her plate, clearly lacking her appetite again. Tiffany and George spent the entire hour talking about an internship that George’s law firm would be offering in the summer. It didn’t interest me. It didn’t seem like it interested my mom, either. Like most of what the Lorsens said, it went in one ear and out the other.

Finally, George got up, claiming he had to take a call.

“I’m going to head to bed,” my mom said when I turned to face her, wishing I could have a private conversation with her without Tiffany here.

It was as though my mother knew I wanted to check on her and see if she was struggling again.

With Tiffany lingering in the dining room, though, scrolling on her phone as the maids took the dishes away, I knew this wasn’t the time or place to push.

“Already?” I asked her anyway.

She smiled, and it was more like the “real” smiles I remembered. “Not everyone can stay up as late as you two do.”

I hated to be lumped in at all with Tiffany. Sure, we were the same age, but we didn’t even bother to act like siblings. We were more strangers than anything else. Roommates, even, if I had to admit this was my residence now.

She gave Mom a smile that seemed more like a smirk. “Oh, Leslie, it’s not like I’m going out partying and getting up to no good.”

I rolled my eyes.Up to no good? Who the fuck talks like that anymore?

Mom smiled, almost joining in on the teasing. Hell, if teasing me could snap her out of her mood, I’d take it.

“I know you’re up late every night studying, Tiffany,” Mom said as she stood.

“It’s not likeIcan study anything,” I replied, halfheartedly defending myself or the fact that I’d more or less become an art major.

Mom would never compare me to the golden spoiled child that Tiffany strived to be. My concentration in the arts was the product of a whim whereas Tiffany’s obsession with going into law was a bizarre fixation on following in her father's footsteps. If kissing ass were an Olympic sport, she’d win gold.

Mom patted my shoulder as she left the dining room, leaving me with my stepsister.

I exhaled a long breath, tenser now with worry about the only person who mattered in my world.

If she were struggling with depression again, would she reach out to anyone for help this time? To me? To George? One of the maids or housekeepers?

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