Chapter 35 Matilda #2
“I was just asking Matilda about her relationship with Luca Vasvault before dinner.” Lauren changed the subject.
Cutlery scraped across plates, and I lifted my gaze to glare at Lauren across the table.
Taylor’s head spun to me, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh my god. Are you together? Everyone at school is talking about it.”
“That kiss was something, wasn’t it, Matilda?” Lauren set her fork on her half-eaten plate, smirking.
“It sure was.” My words sliced through the air with a sharpness I hadn’t intended but couldn’t find it within myself to regret. Lauren’s reaction was immediate—a subtle glint dancing in her eyes that sent a chill down my spine.
“So, what’s going on with you two, then?”
“Nothing’s going on with us.” I mirrored her, crossing my arms.
“I haven’t said anything, Matilda, but I was so disappointed to see you kissing him.
Especially as he was so rude to me after your fall,” Mum admonished, animosity flaring in her eyes.
“The kiss was so tacky. I know you are worried about not winning another season, but it isn’t winning if you have to get there through cheap stunts and not skill. ”
I visibly balked. The only reason I’d started on the stupid show was so she would finally get off my back. Until I’d realized that I could use the winner’s bonus to finally set myself free, I hadn’t even cared whether I won or not.
“It’s so transparent, too. Everyone knows it was a publicity stunt. I mean, you’ve seen the women he usually dates…” Lauren chipped away at my self-esteem.
“Are you joking?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes. “Why are you so insistent on insulting me all the time?”
“What has gotten into you?” she sneered. “I am not insulting you; I am telling you the truth like a good sister would. You’re just so insecure that you read every bit of constructive criticism as an insult.”
“How is that constructive criticism, Lauren?”
“I am trying to save you from any more media carnage. If I can tell it’s fake, surely they can too.”
“I don’t think it’s fake,” Taylor interjected, and my heart cracked a little more.
“Lauren’s right, Matilda,” Mum joined in, ignoring Taylor. “It is completely transparent, and you don’t want to tarnish your name by trying to win through popularity.”
“Why is it so hard to believe that Luca might actually be interested in me?”
Having people constantly remind me of the insecurity that had been living in my mind rent-free for the past few weeks was starting to grate on my last nerve.
If my own family didn’t believe I was good enough, who else would?
I naively glanced to my father for backup, but he continued staring at his plate.
“Do you see what you’re doing?” My sister dropped her cutlery onto her plate, the sound sharp against her exaggerated exhalation of patience. “You accuse me of insulting you, but you’re literally asking me to tell you why Luca wouldn’t be interested in you.”
“Both of you, stop. Lauren, stop antagonizing your sister. Matilda, she’s just trying to be honest with you.
You have to think logically here. You don’t want to get distracted by some fling and ruin your skating dreams.” Mum softened her voice, but it didn’t stop the tremor in my hands.
“I just don’t want you getting wrapped up in any drama with him. You have to think about your career.”
You have to think about your career. She meant I had to think about the career she’d been trying to ram down my throat since the day I was born.
“How do you even know that I want anything with him?” I demanded.
Her look of pity made me want to scream.
“It’s obvious you do. We’ve all seen the cutaways and the pictures of you two. You look at him like he’s holding the world.”
I wanted to deny it so badly, but I’d also seen the pictures and the videos. I was sure Luca looked at me with some semblance of want, but maybe I was wrong.
“Think about your career,” she repeated, the food all but forgotten.
This—friendship or whatever it was with Luca—was the first time that I was pursuing something just because I wanted to. And because she didn’t approve of it, she was throwing it back in my face.
And it hit me then, what my therapist had said—just how much time I’d wasted attempting to please her.
Even if I did win the show, I’d already wasted so much of my life trying to get there and making myself unhappy in the process. Did it even matter?
Did achieving my mother’s approval—or anyone’s—make my life better?
The rapid thudding of my heartbeat echoed in my ears, building my frustration until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
“I don’t want to think about my career, Mum! I don’t even like being on the show. I’m only on it because you want me to be!”
Although it felt good to say the words aloud, the disappointment and shock covering her face made part of me wish I could take them back. But I wasn’t going to—I’d said what needed to be said. She shook her head, and the pit in my stomach deepened, pressing heavier with each passing second.
“Don’t blame this on me.” Her lip curled up, palms pressing against the table.
“You are the one who failed at the Olympics. You are the one who can’t win a season on the show.
You took away my figure-skating career, not me.
” She gestured to the images and trophies of her achievements on the walls.
“That could have been you, but you aren’t good enough. ”
The entire evening had been an overwhelming mess. My anger had dissipated and was replaced with exhaustion.
I am so tired of this.
All the times I had done things to please my mum, it still hadn’t been enough. It wasn’t just things I had done but things I had missed. I had missed out on things I enjoyed because of a job I hated. I was too exhausted to keep doing this.
My eyes burned, a blinding ache forming behind my temples from the attempt to hold back tears. One traitor escaped but I swiped it away and held my head high.
My mother shook her head. “Don’t make me feel bad, Matilda. I didn’t say it to make you upset.”
Another knife to the chest.
I hated knowing I had upset her, but Luca was right.
My mother’s happiness wasn’t my responsibility.
This was my life, not hers. He made me feel like I could stand on my own, helped me see that my worth wasn’t tied to making other people happy, and offered more unconditional support than I’d ever got from my family.
“Well, dinner is ruined.” Lauren narrowed her eyes at me. “I’ve lost my appetite. Mum, do you want me to help you clear away?”
“Yes, please.” Our mother sniffled.
I snatched my plate and pressed a quick kiss to Taylor’s cheek. “Sorry about this, sweetie. I’ll speak to you next week.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you more.”
I darted into the kitchen, not wanting to stay there a second longer, and hurriedly loaded my plate into the dishwasher.
My heart pounded, and as soon as I was out of their sight line, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I pushed out of the back door and pulled out my phone to call an Uber.
There were no fucking Ubers in the area. I leaned against the wall and tipped my head to the dark sky, a strangled sob escaping.
I considered calling Lily, but I didn’t want to pull her away from a dance class. More than that, calling Lily didn’t feel right—I loved her, but she wasn’t the one I needed in that moment.
I wanted Luca.
Glancing through the window, I saw my mother and sister were animatedly talking in the kitchen, shaking their heads as they poured themselves another glass of wine.
I covered my mouth, hoping to calm the sobs. Before second-guessing myself, I called Luca.
He answered on the second ring.
“Matilda, are you OK?” His words were measured but filled with concern.
“Um, yeah.” I attempted to steady my voice. “Sorry to call. Are you busy? Could you p-pick me up, p-please?”
“Of course. What happened? Where are you?” A shuffling sounded through the phone, alongside a jingle of keys.
“I’m at my parents’,” I whispered.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Matilda…”
“Is it a pain to come and get me? All the Ubers are busy, and I need to get out of here and—”
“Stop. I am coming right now—” His voice grew distant momentarily as he mumbled to someone, “I’ll be right back.” Who was he speaking to? Did he have company?
The knot in my throat tightened. “Oh my god, are you busy? It’s honestly—”
“I’m never too busy for you. Send me the address, and I’ll be there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do it now.”
For the first time since I’d arrived, I felt like I could breathe properly.
“Thank you, Luca.”
“I’ll see you soon, Stevens.”