Page 20 of Broken Deal

“I’m not going to have you come into Mom’s life and disrupt her peace. She doesn’t deserve it,” I say, trying to level with her.

“Okay, so what would you have me do?” she asks, desperation seeping into her voice.

I stroll to the elevators and press the down button. “I don’t know, but I honestly don’t care anymore, Amelia. You’re an adult,act like it.” The doors open, and I get inside. I need to walk away from this situation before my resolve crumbles. “I better not see you when I come back,” I say before the elevator doors finally close.

Once the elevator starts moving, a small, frustrated sob escapes me. It kills me to see Amelia like that. It kills me to know our relationship has gotten so damaged. I barely recognize her these days. I don’t know where I went wrong.

You were just a child yourself, Sophia. You tried your best.

My best was not enough.

I straighten my back, swiping my tears away as I take slow, deep breaths. By the time the doors open, I have a fake smile plastered on my face and step out of the elevator carrying another fresh wound in my heart.

This day has been shaping up to be the worst. The cherry on top? I’m currently getting ready to go have dinner with Lorenzo.

Between Amelia’s visit and the impending dinner, I don’t know what to do with myself. I drowned myself in work today, and it helped for the most part, but Amelia has been texting me nonstop, and it has me on edge. I should’ve known better than to think that was going to be the end of our discussion.

My phone pings with another text. I’mabout ready to walk up to Lake Michigan and throw it in. Instead, I make the terrible mistake of looking at it.

Amelia

Are you seriously not going to let me crash at Mom’s? Sophia, come on. You’re being such a bitch.

Amelia

I don’t understand why I even went to you in the first place. You’re still bitter after everything that has happened. It’s been years, move on.

Ha.If anything, I dodged a bullet. It may have broken my heart and made me swear off love in the process, but I can only imagine what my life would be right now if I were still in that situation. It’snota pretty picture.

My stomach churns, a wave of nausea rolling through me. I breathe in and out through my nose, trying to calm myself down. I throw my phone on the bathroom sink, leaving her message on read.

I grab my perfume and splash some on my wrist and the side of my neck then rub it in.

You’ll cave eventually.

The looming realization hangs in the back of my head like a dark, stormy cloud. I know I’ll cave eventually. Especially because if Mom finds out what sort of trouble Amelia is in, she’s going to start worrying. So I have to go in and clean up the mess so it doesn’t trigger her bad anxiety.

You could give her money to go away.

I would if it was possible. Every dime I have is counted for. Mom’s psychiatrist is not cheap, but he’s the best in the state of Kentucky. Not only that, but I have a maid who goesto clean her house weekly, and a nurse who stays most nights with her. And neither are cheap.

She doesn’t necessarily need someone staying with her anymore—her panic attacks have become less frequent since she’s been religiously taking her medication. But since I don’t live near her, this arrangement gives me some peace of mind. Her anxiety is still severe enough that she needs help with simple tasks like driving to doctor’s appointments and going grocery shopping. When her panic attacks were more frequent, they always happened at night. I can’t blame her—nights at our house were always the scariest. It has always been a trigger for her. I’d rather be safe than sorry, even if it’s more costly.

I don’t mind covering for her things. I’m the eldest daughter. It’s my job to take care of her, and I do it proudly. But I wish I could have something extra and throw it at Amelia so she can get the hell away from us.

I glance at the mirror, applying some lip gloss. I opted for a simple short, long-sleeved navy-blue dress with four-inch beige heels. My hair is in my usual soft waves, and my ears are adorned with my usual small gold earrings.

My phone rings with an incoming call, and I groan in frustration, because I know Amelia will keep insisting if I don’t answer. Without looking at the screen ID, I pick it up. “What?”

“Whoa.Feisty.”

“Oh.” I let out a sigh of relief at Lorenzo’s voice on the other line. “It’s just you.”

“Just me? Please, you hurt me,” he says through a hearty laugh. “I was calling to let you know I’m downstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll be right down,” I reply quickly and hang up.

Looking in the mirror one last time, I give myself a much-needed inner pep talk.

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