Page 84 of What Is Love
“Why did you do that?”
“I had a disagreement with my teacher over something,” I answered vaguely.
“Is that why you look so upset?”
That stunned me. I hadn’t realized I was letting so much show. “How embarrassing. I think every time I run into you, I’m having a bad day.”
“Do you need to talk about it?” he asked.
I stared back out the window. “I think I’ve talked too much lately.” I’d spoken so much in the past few weeks, I’d forgotten the reason I’d barely spoken before. Fewer words meant fewer lies. Less truth, less hurt. There were so many things I had to reteach myself to be as disciplined as I had been.
“Why do you say that?” His voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I shrugged and looked up at him. I eyed the logo on his shirt. “Do you like where you work?”
He glanced down at the logo briefly. “Yeah. We sell motorcycles and gear. It does well.”
“Is…” I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I was curious. “Do you like your boss?”
He frowned at that. “What do you mean?”
“Does he seem like a good man?” I asked, terrified of any answer he’d give. Clearly I was in the mood to kick myself while I was down.
He stared at his coffee in his hand. “He’s not perfect, but he tries very hard to be. Every day.”
I bit my lip as I tried not to cry. It didn’t work. Before I embarrassed myself more in front of him, I stood and collected my phone and keys. “It was nice talking to you, Bram.” I abandoned my barely touched coffee on the table and headed for the door.
“Charlotte,” Bram said, following me out. “Charlotte, wait.”
“I have to go!” I shot over my shoulder and didn’t stop walking until I got to my car.
There was a very nice—veryexpensive gray Bentley parked in front of my house when I pulled up. After I parked and walked around front to see who it was, my stomach sank.
Mrs. Carmichael got out of her car. She was dressed in a light purple, cap-sleeved summer dress that fell past her knees. Her white peep-toe heels clacked on the stone driveway as she walked around her car to approach me.
“Hello, Charlotte,” she greeted with a practiced bullshit smile.
“Hello, Mrs. Carmichael,” I greeted back with my own BS smile. “If you’re here to see my mother, I’m afraid she’s out of town.”
“I’m not here to see her, dear. I’m here to see you.” She gestured to the house. “I think we should head in. There are some things we need to discuss.”
That was the last thing I wanted to do, but I plastered a smile onto my face anyway. “Of course.”
She followed me inside and I led her to the living room, which was past Mother’s study. Prue walked into the living room just as we sat down. She looked from me to Sharon Carmichael. “Would you like some refreshments?”
“That would be lovely,” Sharon said, and I nodded to Prue.
As Prue left, Sharon glanced around the room. “Your mother has fascinating taste.”
The living room was nearly all white except for the pops of color from expensive art on the walls or the gaudy iron sculpture of a naked woman in the corner of the room. The couch, tile, walls, and coffee table were all white just so anyone who came into the room would see and envy the expensive shit Bethany Kendry owned.
“May I ask what it is you want to speak to me about?” I asked.
“It’s impolite to not wait for refreshments,” she chastised.
I sat up straighter. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
