Page 62 of The Tryst

We make plans for another event, then Mia walks with me down the block, dropping her big, bold persona for a beat. “Seriously though. I’d love to find more ways to work together. Maybe we can partner up in a bigger way? I have some ideas,” she says, then shares a few.

“I’d love that. I’ll talk to my business partner.”

When we part, I call Geeta, whose only response is an enthused “hell fucking yes.”

* * *

The time the Mia Jane collaboration will take will be worthwhile for another reason too. I’ll have a legit excuse to turn down my mom’s matchmaking efforts.

I’m simply too busy.

After I play tennis with her on Saturday morning, she asks me to join her and Rose for lunch. “We had an idea for you.”

Forget her idea. I’m bristling at the mere mention of Rose. I’ve never bristled over Rose before.

But now I know my mom’s friend is Nick’s ex-wife. In Miami, Nick told me he’d married young, that it wasn’t a good marriage, and that they divorced years ago. Why, then, does my chest feel like it’s on fire? Am I actually jealous of someone Nick hasn’t been with in probably a decade? What is wrong with me?

As I shower and get dressed, I try to put Nick out of my mind. I mentally prep ideas for Mia as I blow out my hair. When I grab my bag from my locker, a woman across the way whispers to a woman next to her. I swear I can hear the wordshis business partner, thenshe walked in on it.

I grit my teeth and try to ignore the way I’m a sideshow to the New York elite. I bet they whisper about my mother too, then put on false faces and eat cobb salad with her.

When I leave, I meet their eyes, then smile. They can’t break me. I was broken years ago, and I had to put myself together again.

I did it thanks to Carla, and thanks to my friends. I touch my tattoo for strength as I exit, leaving them in my wake, like I’m a hurricane and they’re the damaged homes.

I join my mom and Rose at the table. Rose takes a sip of Perrier then says, “I hear Kip Cranston’s family is donating a set of golf clubs and golf lessons at their country club to the auction you’re working on with David.”

“And that gave me an idea. Since you and David insist on beingjust friends,” my mom chimes in, sketching air quotes, like our friendship is a personal repudiation of her matchmaking attempts.

Rose goes next, breezily suggesting, “Perhaps Kip could be your date to the auction.”

Wow. This is a new tactic. The have-a-friend-make-the-case tactic.

But no. No on so many levels. I’m not attracted to the man. I don’t like to discuss yachts, and country club memberships, and secret societies at Yale.

I’ve got an ace up my sleeve, and I play the hell out of it with a cheery smile. “Thank you for thinking of me, Rose,” I say to the woman I strangely dislike.

“Of course, dear.”

I turn my focus to my mom. “And I’d ordinarily love to, but I’m incredibly busy. I’m doing some collabs with Mia.”

Mom lifts a brow and asks archly, “Oh?”

But I stand my ground. “I like her product and her business practices,” I say, then tell her about my recent event and its potential. Like what it could do for Geeta and me. Especially Geeta and her responsibilities with her dad.

Mom brightens, but I can’t tell if her shift is real or fake. “Lovely. All that work will help you when you come to Beautique,” she says, and the answer is neither real nor fake—just selfish. “I suspect you’ll be more than ready to start as a high-level marketing VP. And just think how proud your father would be if you were working with me.”

I brace myself.

She’d better not say the next thing.

She’d really better not.

“You know your father would have wanted you to,” she adds.

She went there.

The place I can’t argue from. Did my father even say that to her? Was it his dying wish? Or is it hers? I don’t know. I’m afraid she’d break down if I even ask, so I’ve never questioned her. I’ve never told her about the promise I made him either, so I have no choice but to believe her.

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