Page 30 of Kisses and Paperclips

They used to be her favorite, back when we were still a family, and Sunday mornings meant garden clippings in glass vases by the window.

I didn’t know what they meant to her now.

But I saw the flicker in her eyes before she tucked it away.

The kind of reaction that makes you wonder if you’ve done something right… or just reminded someone of everything that’s gone wrong.

My mother’s manicured fingers hovered over the stems before drawing them close.

“You remembered.”

Her voice was soft and careful. The kind of tone that used to make me believe she gave a damn.

I didn’t answer.

What was there to say?

The silence thickened, stretching until even the air conditioning seemed to hesitate.

She cleared her throat, the sound like a stage cue, and turned toward the room with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

But my eyes were now back on Serena.

I turned just in time to watch her place the bouquet beside my mother’s seat. Her hands were steady, and her movements were exact. There was no wasted motion, no hesitation, just cool precision, like she was handling evidence at a crime scene.

No smile.

No glance my way.

Just another task executed with flawless efficiency.

The flowers weren’t hers, but she positioned them with the same detached focus.

My mother didn’t even look at them. Just adjusted her diamond cufflinks and launched into the meeting like the bouquet had teleported there.

They moved in terrifying sync.

Fluid.

Wordless.

A perfectly coordinated attack.

I was the variable they hadn’t accounted for.

That’s when I understood.

Serena wasn’t a temporary hire or a low-level employee.

She didn’t just work there; she ran the place with her body language alone.

She ran the place.

I’d had her naked, gasping, coming apart under me, and somehow missed the goddamn crown on her head.

My mistake.

She shifted, just barely.

---