Chapter Thirteen #2
Just cute and able to provide.
What a fairytale…
I shake my head, and a humorless laugh slips out me because everything about her archaic standard is Ellswood.
Cornelia Livingston’s Ellswood.
The thing is, Mom is not Cornelia. But I won’t say she’s nothing like her.
In a dozen given ways, at the core they come from the same old-school, high-saddity, holier-than-thou place of Black excellence.
Women are supposed to respect their elders, do as we’re told, and stay in line.
Any deviation is considered defiant. They’re appalled by my audacity to not be their puppet.
Indignation boils in the back of my throat, and I can’t help but laugh. “You know what, Mom? You need to stop worrying about my love life, okay? I don’t want your help, nor your input. When it comes to the person I’ll end up with, if I ever find him…he’ll be my choice.”
“Ebony Grace, what has gotten into you?”
“I suspect something akin to courage,” I say with every ounce of conviction that I feel.
“Courage to be unapologetically me. I’m so done being your little debutante doll.
Now…” I take the remote from her hand, turn off the television, and fan out my arm toward the door. “I’ve got a date, so you’ve got to go.”
She blanches, her mouth slackening, perhaps in disbelief.
I’m surprised, too. But for completely different reasons. I never talk to my mother this way. Every inch of my skin tingles, though in the best way. Something has changed inside, and it feels damn good to stand up for myself for once.
Whisk Priscilla’s the sweetheart; and, uh, the newcomer for Chanel—”
“What don’t you understand about no ? Leave me and my friends alone,” I snap, my voice cutting through the restaurant chatter. I inhale deeply, finally noticing all the phones aimed at me—and the familiar faces.
A few feet behind him, Linc is staring at me, as if he’s waiting for the signal to destroy Zeek.
I swallow, forcing a smile. “Please pardon my interruption,” I say to the people gathered, then turn and head for the exit, stepping into the warm breeze, feeling like I might explode.
“What was that?” I murmur to myself.
I’ve started walking toward my car, debating whether to cancel the mixer Leslie scheduled for me next month on the first, when someone calls my name. I toss a glance over my shoulder and find Linc running toward me.
“Hey, are you all right?”
“Well, I thought I had a date.” I laugh, keeping it light, even though my mind is spiraling. Especially since I’m pretty sure one of those familiar faces I spotted in the restaurant was the PI I hired to follow Julian. Lord only knows what case he’s working now.
“So, it wasn’t a date?” Linc scratches his temple, like, Please, make it make sense .
A small giggle rumbles over my shoulders. “Turns out he just wanted to offer me a job…as a Luxe Ladies cast member.”
Linc presses a fist to his mouth, clearly trying to mask a laugh. “Hey, look at it this way—I hear they make bank.”
Playfully, I swat at him. But he catches my hand, holding on a little too long to be casual. We’re lingering in each other’s space a little too long for it to be meaningless.
His intense gray eyes flicker in the vibrant sunlight, and I see the moment when the words we can’t iron out the lines of his handsome face.
And he’s right.
We’ve got all the reasons to keep our distance. To be professional. To stymie Cornelia. To respect his stunning date, who’s presumably still inside Whisk & Whistle. And still, as he releases my hand, I can’t help but wish we could disregard all of them.