Page 66 of Sunny Skies Ahead
“I didn’t know for sure,” Cassie exclaimed. “I didn’t want you to panic over something that might not happen. She was in Seattle a few weeks ago. Said that she’d had an awakeningor whatever about her relationship with her kids. She wanted to talk, make amends.”
“And you believed her?”
Cassie sighed heavily, and I tightened my grip on the phone.
“She’s our mom, Imogen. We went to dinner together and talked things over. Our relationship isn’t magically perfect again.”
“She is horrible, Cassie,” I said. “You know this. You were there. Not that you ever did anything about it, because you were always the golden child, but you know firsthand what she’s capable of when she’s angry.”
“Like I said,” Cassie said, voice clipped, “I’m not discounting the mistakes she’s made. I know your relationship has never been the best, but she’s our mom. I know it might not be complicated for you, Imogen, but it is for me.”
I wanted to curl up into a ball and never leave my room again. It was so like Cassie to do this—to defend Carmen, to try and insulate herself against the way our mother lashed out emotionally.
Cassie was always the favorite, with her honor roll grades and high-powered career aspirations. Kevin was my parents’ only son. Everyone had their place in my mother’s grand plan for her picture perfect family. If there’s one thing I knew my mother loved without a doubt, it was the perfectly curated corporate image of her family. People loved supporting a family-owned business, even if she never deigned to visit us more than once or twice a year. There were no birthday or holiday cards.
There was only crap like this, where Carmen showed up with no regard for what other people might have going on. Hell, she didn’t even have the decency to respect the fact that this was my house now, and had been for years. She walked in here like she owned the place, and expected me to change my evening plans to accommodate her.
I was exhausted. I’d worked so hard to put distance between myself and my parents these last few years. But somehow, they managed to keep a grip on my life. It was foolish to forget that.
“I don’t want to hear from you again,” I murmured. Cassie inhaled sharply and said my name, but I quickly cut her off. “I really thought our relationship would improve once you were out of Watford. You always hated it here, and I foolishly thought that maybe you’d wake up when you made it big, that you’d be able to see that I never needed you to be perfect in the way mom and dad did. I never wanted anything from you but your presence in my life. I wanted a sister. I wanted a friend. And you fought it every step of the damn way.”
Cassie said nothing, and for once, I was glad for the silence. It felt like there was ice forming on my heart, in my veins. I felt numb in a way I hadn’t in a very long time.
“Bye, Cassie. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
I hung up and blocked her number. It wasn’t the most mature thing I’d ever done in my life, but in this moment, I didn’t care. I had something good. I was falling in love with a kind man, a good man. A man who cooked me dinner and flirted with me and made me smile and laugh like it was his paid job. A man who texted me to make sure I was okay.
It was like my family could sense when things were going well for me. It’s like they knew I finally had something for myself, that I was finally enjoying the success I’d worked so damn hard for, and it didn’t matter.
How much more of this could I take?
Hadn’t I suffered enough?
Those thoughts did nothing to ease the ache in my chest.
Chapter twenty-one
Imogen
Iwalked into Blackbeard’s the next morning with my head held high. Carmen had asked me to join her for coffee this morning, and I begrudgingly agreed. I still didn’t have a clue why my mother was in Watford, and I really didn’t care to know.
I was just grateful she didn’t spend the night at the farmhouse. There was a last-minute cancellation at the campsite, and Kevin had driven her to her cabin, saying he’d drive her into town tomorrow for our coffee meet up and any other activities she wanted to take part in.
The only reason I was even entertaining this conversation with my mother was out of a misplaced sense of duty to give my family every chance I could to right these wrongs.
“Hello,” I said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Did you order already?”
“I did,” Carmen said, folding her hands in her lap. “Thank you for meeting me.”
“I’m here,” I said, not taking the bait. I scanned the QR code on the menu to order my coffee. Scrolling through the menu on my phone also made a great excuse for why I wasn’t looking her in the eyes. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I’m sorry, Imogen.”
I was momentarily stunned. Out of all the things I’d expected to come out of my mom’s mouth during this conversation, an apology was not one of them.
“Um. . . okay,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat as I placed my order for my usual oat milk latte and cheddar scone.
One thing I realized about my mother was that she always had an angle, and it was always a self-indulgent one. My mother didn’t do anything in this world that didn’t protect her standing or advance that standing.
