Page 123 of Lies Like Love

It’s a quality easier to come by when you value money over love. And in my family, it’s all that mattered.

My mother spent her life fighting to live up to my grandfather’s expectations. Either make money or marry it. Which I assume is why my mother went from her father’s money, to mine, to Jude’s dad’s.

Thinking about it now, I’m not sure if it was my mother’s fault, my grandparents, or lineage long before our generations.

Bloodlines of Alcotts were groomed with the same intent.

Carmen leads me to the family room like I’m a guest who doesn’t know my way around. She waves to the couch before disappearing, but I walk over to the mantle instead.

There’s not a speck of dust on the frames, even if they haven’t moved or changed in years. Some pictures are of my mom and dad, some are of my mom and Jude’s father. Only one has me and Jude together, and we’re standing with our parents between us.

We’re both younger than I felt at the time we took it. A reminder we were just kids living in their world. Fighting uphill battles we didn’t understand.

In the picture, Jude’s hair has more blond than it does now. His features are softer and there’s not a speck of ink on his skin. I’m not sure how I never noticed back then how much his appearance was an illusion. While this picture is exactly how I remember him, it doesn’tfeellike him at all.

Turning my attention to myself, I’m not sure I’ve changed at all, inside or out. My long red hair is in perfect waves and my freckles refuse to hide in the light of the sun. I’m dressed in something expensive and uncomfortable, and I remember Mom adjusting me over and over until the picture was her version of presentable.

Perfection, nothing less. Except when I look closely, my smile doesn’t reach my eyes.

The photo takes me back in time like a memory I can walk around in. Jude and his dad were in an ever-lasting stalemate over something he refused to talk about. They fought so often; I stopped thinking too much about it. But that day was different. The lingering tension was on the verge of snapping.

Everything was about to change. Not that I knew it at the time.

You never see the truth of a moment until long after it happens. And even then, the mind plays tricks on you.

“What a lovely surprise.” Grandmother’s voice comes up from behind me, and I spin to face her.

It’s not a surprise at all. We planned this brunch two days ago, butappearancesand all.

Her gray hair is pinned off her face and she’s wearing one of her church dresses. Fancy enough to make me feel underdressed in an outfit that cost more than what I make in a week at Twisted Roses.

I walk over, and she gives me a polite single armed hug, but when she pulls back, her expression is tense.

Grandfather comes into the room with his usual confidence. Not faltering as he walks over and gives me a forced hug. We’ve never been close, and he’s not affectionate out of love. It’s all pretense, which is fine. At least I know what to expect with him.

He cares about me to the extent of me being his granddaughter with the ability to further his legacy. But that’s the limit.

“Felicity.” He nods, walking over to the in-room bar and pulling out his nicest scotch.

He pours his usual inch and corks the bottle, walking to his leather chair at the head of the room and taking a seat.

When I lived here, my relationship with them felt less formal. Now, I can’t help but feel like this might as well be a business meeting.

Grandfather waves his arm out to the couch, and Grandmother rushes to take a seat. Always eager to please him in any way she can.

I take the seat across from her as Carmen comes through the door and sets three glasses of water on the coffee table in front of us, before leaving again. I’d like to drown my thoughts in martinis right now, but no one offers me one.

Grandfather downs scotch like he’ll dry up without it, but women are supposed to beladies. So god forbid.

“How have things been at Maren’s?” Grandfather raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip.

He doesn’t call itmyplace because he refuses to acknowledge I’ll stay there.

“Fine.” I reach for my water to cool my throat.

I know why I’m here; I just need the courage to come out and say it. But the words are stuck, and my mouth is dry. Part of me wishes I’d taken Jude up on his offer to come with me. He calms my nerves in every situation.

“But that’s not why I’m here.” I set my glass back down. “I need to know if what I’ve heard is true.”

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