Page 35 of Quarantined
Once the clapping subsides, I hunt down my mom. Reid is already being swarmed by female admirers. He has gained a herd of“Parisian groupies”through our new clique. Most of whom are models. It’s nice to be a good-looking Sinclair.
I don’t feel bad leaving him behind, as I am sure those females will keep him plenty occupied.
“Surprise!” Mom yells out and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“Wh… What?”
“I hope you liked it. It took everything in me not to blab. And I lasted all summer. Proud of me?”
“I don’t understand. What is going on?”
“Haha. Okay, sweetheart. I will give you the plot summary.” My mom waves her hands dramatically. “Milo sent me your sketches. I had no idea that my daughter was so talented,” she beams. “I loved one of them so much that I made it. We wanted to surprise you at the fashion show. But we were having problems setting a date for the show… ” Mom’s voice trails off.
Mom grabs a bottle of water from one of the passing waitresses. She takes a quick swig of it and continues. “Anyway, Milo got you open-ended plane tickets, so we can definitely make sure you will be here for the show. I offered to pay for the tickets, but he insisted that we split your birthday gift. He pays for the tickets, the dance classes, and all your activities. My part was much easier. Just make the dress and don’t blab to my daughter.” Mom gives me a kiss on each cheek.
I suddenly feel so weak.
“I hope I did you proud, sweetie. And that you liked my belated gift. Congrats, baby. You are officially a designer now. The dress is calledIt's so Raven.” Mom holds up one hand, “I know, I know. Not original. But I had to put down a name.”
“Mom, you guys did all this? When?” I whisper.
“Oh honey, Milo was working on this all year. How blessed are we to have the Sinclairs in our lives?”
Mom contemplates her words, and her forehead forms a frown. “What I don’t understand is why he had a change of heart about coming to Paris? The plan was always for Milo and Reid to join you in Paris after Mia left for Grand Cayman.”
I feel like I have been sucker-punched. The wind is knocked out of me. My lips quiver as I try to come up with a response.
I know why Milo didn’t come to Paris.
Because I am an ungrateful bitch who told him not to come. He sent me a text, asking if he should come to Paris. And I saidNo.
He did everything in his power to give the summer of my dreams. To propel my career, in the city of fashion. And I so poorly misunderstood his intentions.
This was the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. It’s like he ripped open my soul, saw what I wanted, and etched it on a piece of paper for me.
“I don’t know, mom,” is all I manage to choke out. “But thank you. This was so thoughtful. I love it, and I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
I can’t formulate any more words. I am grateful when my mom is snagged by other attendees.
I am angry. I am so angry, and I am so sad.
Although it’s irrational, I feel resentful towards Reid for asking me to tone it down with Milo. I feel angry at myself for doubting Milo’s intentions. I am sad at how much I miss Milo right now. I am sorry about our broken bond. I’d pay any price to get it back.
My heart feels punctured.
I text Reid to tell him I am leaving. I know it’s not his fault, but I am too irritated to talk to him. My plan is to go back to the apartment, pack my bags, and book the earliest flight back. Then I will grovel at Milo’s feet for acting like a Class A ungrateful, spoiled brat. I will beg for his forgiveness for leaving the way I did, disappointing him, and dismissing him all summer.
How could I even think Milo was trying to get rid of me? He’d never push me away. No one and I mean no one, in this world, will stick by me as he does. How many times does this man have to prove that he is the only one capable of loving me unconditionally, no matter what I do? When will I learn?
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Milo
I finish answering the last of my emails and turn off my computer. As I am about to get up from the living room sofa, I hear the front door fly open.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see something that makes my breath hitch.
