Page 21 of Thorns of Desire
“Ditto,” I admitted, inhaling her familiar perfume that smelled of lilacs and… comfort. My chest flooded with warmth at this rare show of affection. The years had been kind to her physically, but I knew she suffered mentally. Silently.
My phone buzzed and I glanced at the message. It was from the girls’ group chat.
Raven: We need a game night.
Reina: What did you have in mind?
Phoenix: Clue?
Reina: We all know the killer, so it would be a moot point.
I winced, knowing exactly what she was implying. It was hard to forget something that changed you so profoundly.
Isla: We’re all the killers, but let’s pick a different game. Strip poker?
Phoenix: Isla just wants to strip for her hot Italian daddy.
I winced, my own hot Italian daddy rushing to mind, and no offense to Isla, but mine was a thousand times better. Not that I’d bring him up. I quickly typed my response.
I’m back tomorrow. Wait for me.
Raven: I don’t want to see you girls naked. Maybe we can find a few guys to play with.
I shook my head.
Good luck with that.
I shoved my phone back into my purse and met my mother’s smiling face. “I’m happy you have good friends. It’s one thing I lacked, although I had my sister for a little bit.”
I took both her hands in mine, guilt eating at me. “It’s because you got pregnant with me.”
“The best gift ever.” Her voice was breathless, but delight wreathed her face. “You’re going to be smarter than me, and we already know you’re a much better singer than me.” She winked, but I saw a cloud of something cross her face… sadness, maybe?
I wrapped my arms around her again and breathed her in. I didn’t want her to see guilt in my eyes, but she must have sensed something because she pulled back, scanning my face.
While we shared the same eye coloring, as I got older, I must have taken after my father. I didn’t have a single picture of him, but Mom let it slip once that my sharing anything withthat manbroke her heart. Little did she know, it broke my heart too.
“You’re not singing,” Mom said simply.
“I’m taking classes,” I retorted as truthfully as I could.
Her brow furrowed. “What classes? You’re done with your college years.”
“Voice lessons. Interval training helps train my voice to greater precision.” Mom nodded, but her quizzical gaze remained on me. We both knew that unless I actually sang, voice lessons were for nothing. “I love singing,” I sighed. “I really do,but I hate performing on the stage alone. You know how when you perform, you’re center stage?” She nodded. “I don’t want that.”
I didn’t want to tell her that every time I stood on a stage, that night came rushing back to me. She didn’t need any extra guilt eating at her.
“But you’re the only legacy I’m leaving behind.”
I let out an uncomfortable laugh while my chest squeezed painfully.
“You’re making it sound like you’re dying.” When she said nothing, I stiffened and gave her another look. She looked great, as always—beautiful and breathtaking—but there was a new paleness to her skin and dark shadows under her eyes. “Mom, are you okay?”
Mom’s lips quirked. “Of course. I’m just worried.”
“About what?”
“Nothing important.”
