Page 21 of Undeniable

“Right. Of course.” I stood, smoothing my hands down my thighs. “Hi, Mom.”

She embraced me lightly then stepped back as if to assess me. “You have to try my friend’s new cosmetics line.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, trying to be polite, while also wary of a trap.

She’s only in town for a short time, I reminded myself as I sank down across the table from her .

“Yes. The color of the foundation would be perfect for you. A much better fit than your current one.”

“Mm.” I perused the menu, half paying attention to her. Only a few minutes in, and I was already regretting my decision to meet. I decided to change the subject. “How’s New York?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. I wish you’d come visit.”

I knew what would happen if I did. I’d spend my visit being criticized or alone. My mom was always so busy—too busy for me. Despite that, the idea was tempting, if only so I could meet Connor.

Meet Connor?Had I lost my mind?

He could have a wife. Kids.

I’d barely known him a week, and yet I already felt as if he knew me better than anyone else. Maybe because we talked nonstop. Because he was kind and honest. He was protective…of me. I still couldn’t get over that. Over what he’d said.

I don’t like the idea of anyone hurting you.

Why? Did he view me like a little sister? Like someone who needed protecting? Or…

“I could fly you out,” I heard Mom say as if from a distance. “Get you tickets to my latest show. We could go shopping. Get a haircut.”

Another dig. I didn’t think she’d said it to be hurtful. At least, I hoped not. I’d always told myself her comments were well-intended if mean. And that she was truly oblivious to the damage she caused.

But Connor’s words made me brave. Not to mention, Olga was starting to get hangry. And that was how I found myself asking, “Do you think I need a makeover?”

“Oh, darling—” She leaned forward, smiling. “I’m so glad you finally asked. Yes, I’d love to give you a makeover.”

I shook my head as she launched into all the plans she had. Personal trainer. New wardrobe. Cosmetic procedures. She broke down my appearance, enumerating each and every one of my flaws.

The longer I sat there, the smaller I felt. Until I was nothing more than a speck of lint on the white tablecloth.

“So, what do you think?” she asked.

“I, um—” I glanced around, feeling the curious stares of nearby diners. “I—” I didn’t even know what to say. Why didn’t she realize that her words were hurtful? Why couldn’t she accept me as I was? And why did I still care so much?

I couldn’t continue like this. It was toxic. And it hurt.

I’d had the guts to stand up to Connor in the beginning, even if my email had been sent by accident. And ever since, I hadn’t hesitated to speak my mind with him. So why couldn’t I tell my mom to back off?

All the sounds came rushing back to me in that moment, clarity ringing through me like a bell. I held up a hand. “I don’t want a makeover. I don’t want to try your friend’s new makeup line or get a haircut. I like the way I look. You’re the one who has a problem with my appearance.”

“But you asked me,” she said, furrowing her brow.

“Only because you’re always suggesting that I change something—usually several things—about how I look.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I only say these things because I love you, and I want the best for you. I’m trying to be helpful, but if you can’t see that…” She sank back in her chair and shook her head, swiping away a tear. For a minute, I felt bad, but then she asked, “Where is this coming from? Did your father put you up to this?”

“No, Mom.” I pinched my lips, tired of her always putting me in the middle. “Dad had nothing to do with this. I just…” I toyed with my napkin.

“Oh my gosh,” a woman said, interrupting the fragile moment that stretched between my mom and me. “You’re Camille Howard, aren’t you? I’m such a fan.”

My mother instantly turned to her with a megawatt smile, and as always, I faded to the background. She loved the spotlight, craved it. Where I would rather run and hide than be the focus of everyone’s attention. Probably because I was afraid of what would happen when someone shone a light on me. What they would find to critique.

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