Chapter 13 Jessiah #2
“Of course I do.” I went to the kitchen, repeated the same process as before, and although I’d have loved to give her a takeout cup, I took down a ceramic mug and placed it on the breakfast bar for her.
Whenever my mother was in Adam’s apartment, it looked as though someone had transplanted an alien into the Wild West. The rustic loft was so completely at odds with her aesthetic, I was afraid she might dirty her outfit just by being there.
“Thank you.” My mother pursed her lips, sat down at a barstool, and took a sip of her coffee before she continued.
“You worked out yesterday,” she said, making it sound like a statement and not a question.
That meant she knew the answer already. And that meant somebody must have told her where I was yesterday.
“I thought we were done with your spying on me,” I remarked coolly, although a more heated reply was on the tip of my tongue.
After I’d gone to live with her, she’d hired someone to keep watch on me from time to time—where I went, who I met.
I’d found ways to dodge her, though, and at some point she’d given up. Until now, it seemed.
“I have no interest whatsoever in spying on you. But I’m not going to turn a blind eye when somebody informs me that you have been seen making a grave mistake.” She set the cup down and fixed me with an icy stare. “You know, I’m sure, what I’m talking about.”
“I have no idea.” I did, of course, but I enjoyed provoking her a little sometimes, even these days.
“Really? So you think it’s completely acceptable for you and Helena Weston, of all people, to be… enjoying yourselves, in public, in a seedy fight club?”
So it really was about that. I laughed, but only half out of amusement. The other half was anger. “Enjoying ourselves really is the last thing we were doing.”
“Well, what would you call it, rolling around on the floor together in one of the training rooms?” Trish raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but her composure was a facade.
She’d always looked exactly like that whenever I’d pulled one of my stunts to make her mad.
Below the surface, I knew she was fuming.
“It was… nothing.” It didn’t sound very convincing, even to me, but it was the truth. “I was asked to show her around, and when we went into the practice room, I showed her a move, and she retaliated. That’s all.”
“Ah, that’s all. And you expect me to believe you’re not interested in her?”
“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” I corrected her. “I’m telling you that’s what happened. We’re not friends, on the contrary. Helena hates me. And how could she not, given everything?”
My mother studied my expression so carefully I knew she was making a note of every tiny movement of my face. “So she hates you. Do you hate her too?”
I laughed and shook my head. “And I thought this conversation couldn’t get any more absurd.”
“You followed her at the Rainbow Room!” she blurted out, and I realized I wasn’t surprised that she knew. “Your brother lost his life because of a Weston, and you have nothing better to do than chase after her sister! What am I supposed to think?”
“I had no idea who she was at the Rainbow Room!” I huffed furiously. How many times did I have to explain myself? “I saw her that night and was worried about her. If I’d known she was one of them, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“But you did do it. Something made you do it. Tell me you’re not attracted to her, Jess, or—”
“Or what, Mother?” I asked harshly. “What are you going to threaten me with? What could you possibly take away from me if I don’t do what you want? Your respect? Your affection? Something else I never had in the first place? Tell me!”
Her expression changed, and I saw that she was genuinely worried. Was she actually afraid of losing me as well? I couldn’t imagine it.
“It was Samara I was with last night, not Helena,” I said, calmer now. “That should ease your concerns, no?”
She gave a huff, and it sounded almost sad.
“Absolutely not. Do you think your brother and Valerie were all over each other immediately? They took things slowly at first because they were serious about each other. I can remember the exact moment Adam first told me about her. About how he liked her so much he couldn’t fight it, on a much deeper level than just…
you know.” She spoke softly, staring into her mug.
I’d rarely seen her like this since Adam’s death.
“He had a fire in his eyes, like Valerie was the answer to all his questions, like she was his safe haven. At first I thought how enviable it was, to have feelings like that for someone. Until I realized his feelings weren’t a blessing but a curse. One that killed him.”
We were silent, united briefly by our grief for Adam. But I wasn’t angry at Valerie now; I was just sad. I hadn’t taken Adam’s feelings seriously. I thought of Helena’s words. Valerie was the first person who was there for him, not the other way around. Maybe there was something in that.
“He lost himself in that relationship. And in the end he lost his life.” My mother looked up. “I couldn’t stand it if the same thing happened to you. Relations between Coldwells and Westons have always been doomed. I knew it, and still I didn’t put a stop to it. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
I hesitated for a moment, then decided to put her mind at rest. I told her what she wanted to hear. “I’m not attracted to Helena,” I said. “In any way.”
Relief spread across her face. “Good. That’s good.” Then she reached over and touched my cheek fleetingly before she got up, suddenly her old self again. “I have to get going—I have a meeting at the office in twenty minutes. Thank you for the coffee.”
I nodded. “You’re welcome.”
“So I’ll see you Friday, then, when you pick up Eli.” She headed for the door, and I had a sudden thought.
“Did you know Adam wanted me to be his best man at the wedding?” I asked as she was almost out the door.
Trish paused. “No,” she said. “But I’m not surprised. You and Adam, you may have been very different, but you were one of the most important people in his life. It makes sense that he would have chosen you.”
With that she left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And with what I’d said to reassure my mother. I’m not attracted to Helena. In any way.
I’d lied to her so often in the past, and usually for more spurious reasons than this.
But I still didn’t regret saying it. When it came to the Westons, my mother was unpredictable, so it was better she thought all was well.
And despite the lie, all was well—after all, there was nothing between Helena and me.
And there never would be.