Page 31 of Atlas
“He’s the reason,” he almost whispers and I can see him connect the dots in his head. “You can’t settle for me because it’ll make this harder,” he says, pointing to the letter in my hand.
“Lord knows he uses anything and everything against me.”
“You could’ve told me,” he mutters. “I would’ve understood.”
“It’s not just about Leo,” I snap. “It’s everything. You’re a biker,” I almost yell. “And I’m a . . .”
He’s already nodding with anger pulsing through him when he cuts me off. “A stuck-up bitch.”
Tears fill my eyes. “Yeah, that,” I whisper, crossing my arms over my chest like that will somehow stop his words cutting me deep.
“I will never be good enough for you, will I?”
I remain silent and he turns, heading for the door. I want to scream, tell him that it’s me that’s not good enough. It’s me that doesn’t deserve him. Just like I don’t deserve Leo. Instead, I let him go.Again.
There’s something about a restaurant that makes me feel uneasy. Especially when it’s times like this, times I want to spend alone with my son. Instead, I have to follow orders from Damien,which is why today, I’m sitting in a top end place waiting patiently for my parents to arrive.
Of course, he organises this sort of thing on purpose, trying to derail me. He knows things are strained between my parents and I, but I think he gets a kick out of knowing it’ll hurt me.
I spot my father first. George’s large frame barrels towards me as the maître-de tries to take his coat. My mother, Carol, is behind him, dressed in a powerful suit with oversized pearls hanging around her neck.God, how I wish they’d choke her.
I stand, smiling. “It’s great to see you,” I lie.
“You reserved a window seat?” It’s the first thing my father says as he arches a brow.
“Yes. Leo prefers to sit by the window,” I tell him.
“So, he can daydream,” he snaps, thrusting his coat at the maître-de. “Move us to a central table,” he tells him firmly and the man nods, leading my parents to a new table. I sigh heavily, gathering my things and following.
“Your hair needs a colour,” Mother mentions as she takes her seat.
“I know, I’ve been too busy.”
“Criminal law will keep you busy,” Father snaps. “London is full of them.”
“And how is your work going, Father?” I ask with a forced smile. He was bitterly disappointed when I refused a job in his corporate law firm.
“You’ve seen last year’s turnover,” he states with a boastful grin, “and I still get to play golf on Fridays.”
I spot Damien heading our way and inwardly groan. Usually, he sends Leo in to me, choosing to wait in the car so we don’t have to interact. Father stands, shaking his hand, and Mother turns her cheek so he can kiss it in greeting. He ignores me,standard.
Leo smiles awkwardly, the way teenagers do when they’re forced to attend things they don’t want to. I don’t blame him, eating out in a place like this is ridiculous when all he wants to do is go to the cinema and eat junk. Our visits used to be like that, cinema, skate park, pizza and swimming. But Damien realised he was having too much fun, which meant I was too, and he hated it. Now he restricts visitation and dictates where we go.
“George, Carol, it’s great to see you again. We didn’t get chance to talk at last week’s gala.”
I roll my eyes at the way he plays them. His act is perfect.
“You were busy,” says Mother, her cheeks the perfect shade of pink as she flutters her lashes.
“Are you going on Friday?” Father asks.
“Yes. I’ll look out for you. Anyway, I came in to apologise. Leo won’t be able to join you this afternoon. My fault entirely, I double booked us.”
“No,” I cry, pushing to my feet and they all turn to stare at me. I gather myself, lowering back into my seat. “Damien, surely the other thing can be rearranged,” I say, my voice lower.
Leo gives me a sympathetic smile, and I know he feels the pain just as much as me.
“Unfortunately, not. He’s got extra practise for piano so he’s ready for his final exam next week.”
