Chapter Eight Stella
Chapter Eight
Stella
When the text came, I called my mother.
Hanna sent the missive. A last-ditch, we-have-no-choice emergency beacon we all insisted never be used. She texted Marni,
and Marni forwarded the missive to me with an overabundance of question marks.
I couldn’t blame Marni for giving in to her panic or for Hanna breaking what had been yearslong protocol, but meeting wouldn’t
solve anything. What could we do? What the hell could we say to each other?
“It’s not appropriate for a client to insist on seeing you this late.” Mom made that pronouncement as she opened another bottle
of wine. It had been a multi-glass day for both of us.
“She’s a patient and I suggested the session.” Both lies but telling Mom anything close to the truth would touch off an argument
and unwanted questions. Mom might even throw in a pretend faint to get her way. No thanks.
“Of course you did.” Mom followed up the comment with an eye roll. Isabel Clarke was the master of the you’re wasting my time eye roll. “Not that I mind babysitting.”
That sounded too easy, but I didn’t question my luck due to her unpredictable mood.
“You usually stick Everly with the nanny. It’s nice to be considered for the duty over the help for once.” Mom shrugged. “Though
I’m sure you called because you had no choice. Not that I’m privy to the details, but Agatha has the night off, I believe.”
And there it was. The slap of condescending bullshit I’d grown to expect from my mom. Everything I did was wrong and, she
insisted, calculated to hurt her. She treated me more as a bank than a daughter, but she lacked the self-awareness to see
that.
Mom never did anything for anyone without exacting an emotional price. She whipped out guilt and covered it with a heavy helping
of disappointment before firing it in my direction. She’d done that sort of thing for years.
She’d also read the situation correctly. She wasn’t my first choice tonight, but I had solid reasons for being skeptical of
her abilities. She wasn’t reliable or particularly nice. She’d been lost in her own head for years, constantly dreaming up
new ways to play the victim.
But she did love Everly . . . or she did now.
When Lukas and I divorced she’d droned on about how it was good we’d never had children and how I should close the door on that option.
Years after the divorce, I messed up and told her I was freezing my eggs and looking into using an anonymous sperm donor.
She told me I was insane. When I started IVF I was already forty-three.
She said it was far too late and to stop being foolish.
Too old. Too selfish. Too late. Too pathetic without a husband. She’d had a list of opinions readily available to throw at
me.
She’d spent a lifetime mourning the husband—my father— who died right after I was born. She spoke of a grand love. The kind
of all-encompassing commitment that sucked up all her energy, leaving very little time available for motherhood or me.
Xavier frequently pointed out my dad loved Mom so much that he drove his car into a tree to get away from her. Xavier didn’t
buy the accident angle. He chalked up my dad’s inebriated state to my mother’s bitching and made sure I knew his theory.
And that summed up my experience with family support and love. Nonexistent.
Everly sat on the floor in her favorite pajamas with the pink bears on them. Not yet three, she did that thing where she talked
to the stuffed mouse family in her hands, acting out what appeared to be an extravagant dinner party. My love for her was
huge, expansive, all-encompassing, which made it even harder to understand my mom’s emotional limitations.
Everly had me. Only me. That meant I needed to tackle the Aubrey issue head-on. Lukas made promises about handling the situation,
and he was the type to follow through, but I refused to depend on him to secure my future. Those days ended when our marriage
disintegrated.
“Be good for Grandma.” I kissed Everly and ignored Mom’s frustrated sigh at being referred to as Grandma. She wanted Everly to call her Isabel. To my everlasting enjoyment, Everly refused. “I promise to give you a big hug when I get back.”
She would be asleep by that time. Her soft blond curls spilling over the mattress. Her beloved stuffed bunny clutched to her
chest. I could stare at her for hours and sometimes did.
She made me believe I could be better. That I deserved a second chance. I hoped like hell that was true.
“When will this meeting be over?” Mom asked as she poured.
The sight of more red wine made me wince. Lukas pissed me off when he’d pointed out my alcohol consumption. I swear this was
different. I needed Mom focused on Everly rather than the bottom of a glass.
“Maybe ease up on the drinking until I get back.” Shit, I did sound as judgy as Lukas.
Mom took a long, defiant sip. “This is not my first time watching a child.”
Yeah, I wasn’t touching that because tonight I needed Mom.
I really needed Aubrey Tanner to disappear a second time.