Page 106 of Anyone But You
“Are you even aware of the shit you caused when you stole from me?”
They didn’t respond. Instead, Faith kept sniffling, and Hope stared at me like she smelled sour milk.
“Mom was evicted from her memory care facility, but you know this. You both were out trying to look like IG models on my dime while Mom was shuffled from the facility to the hospital to some raggedy nursing home I wouldn’t put my worst enemy in.”
“How’s Mom doing?” Faith asked.
My throat tightened, but I pushed forward.
“She’s safe, and she is receiving the best care money can buy. She’s with me. But…I don’t think she’ll be around much longer.”
“I’m sorry,” Faith whispered softly, lowering her head.
I nodded because I genuinely believed her.
“Victoria, what we did was fucked up. I’ll admit that, but why are you doing all of this when you’re with a fucking billionaire!” Hope seethed, lurching forward in her chair.
“Back up!” the guard barked.
Hope instantly complied, and from her hardened expression, I knew I’d never get through to her.
“When will you get it through your head that it’s not about the money? It’s about the principle. You stole from me—down to my fucking ice molds, and when you stole from me, you put our mother’s well-being in jeopardy. She wasn’t Mom of the Year by any means, but she was the only parent we had, and she loved us and did the best she could to raise us on her own. For too long, I let the shit you did to me slide because I held out hope. I thought that one day, we’d get older, become wiser, and a real conversation could be had. But one thing the island taught me was survival. And survival isn’t clinging to the people who keep hurting you. It’s knowing when to let go. I’m done being your safety net. You made your choices, and now you have to live with them. I won’t be posting bail or depositing money into your commissary account. I won’t be making any further statements,and I won’t write the judge a letter begging for leniency. Take care of yourselves.”
* * *
Tears swam in my eyes as I flipped through the pages of my mother’s recipe book while sitting in my driveway. A page slipped out, and I nearly burst into tears as I read the lemon bar recipe.
“Sh-she burnt the shit out of these damn lemon bars,” I said to myself, choking on a sob that eventually turned into laughter.
I jumped when Knox knocked on the window with his cane handle. I rolled down the window with a tearful scowl on my face.
“Can’t a woman cry in peace?”
“Not my woman,” he said, affectionately tracing a tear away with his thumb.
God, I love this man.
“How did it go?”
“It… it felt good. It was cathartic in ways that I never imagined.”
“Good. I see you have the recipe book back.”
“I did. I’m thinking about letting my mom hold onto it for now.”
“That’s a good idea, love. It might bring back a fond memory—even for a second.”
“Will you go with me?” I asked, hoping he’d say yes.
“I go where you go, Tori Montana. Lead the way.”
33
Therapy
Knox
Victoria shifted in her spot and tugged down the hem of her dress for the twelfth time—no exaggeration—I counted.
