Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ONCE BARBARA IS OUT OF sight, the students scatter. I guess the show is officially over.
Mom turns to me. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so, so sorry.”
My throat tightens. I want to feel nothing. But the truth is, she’s almost as drenched as Barbara was. I know it took a lot of courage to stand up to her, especially so publicly. “I appreciate what you said. And that you stopped her from destroying the booths.”
“It was the least I could do.” She smooths a paint-laden chunk of hair away from her face. “I’m sorry for everything. Not just today, but last week. I’ve felt so awful.”
I glare at her. “But not awful enough to stay home today? Or give me a heads-up that you’d be leading an angry mob?”
She recoils like I’ve struck her with something. And then I recognize the look in her broken eyes. Shame.
“Do you want to press charges against her, too?” the president asks, signaling to another officer. He steps forward, opening a pair of handcuffs.
Mom nods, lifting her hands. “It’s okay, honey. I deserve it.”
I stare at her for a long moment. Public image means everything to her, yet she’s willing to be handcuffed and go to jail. It seems like undeniable proof that she’s genuinely remorseful. Plus, if she hadn’t intervened, I’d be covered in as much paint as she is. Evelyn’s dress would be ruined.
“No,” I finally say. “She stopped Barbara from sabotaging the event.” Although it’s pretty much over now.
Millie strides up beside me. “Are you sure? Now’s your chance to get her back for everything she’s done to you.”
Mom shrivels further.
A year ago, I might have said yes. Hell, maybe even a month ago. But deep down, I know that won’t do anything to heal my wounds. Besides, she just lost her entire social circle—her friends, her memberships, her organizations. She’s officially a pariah to them. That’s punishment enough.
I lick my lips. “I’m sure.”
Relief fills Mom’s features. President Markum nods, and he and the police head out.
“I hope you realize what an amazing daughter you have.” Evelyn steps behind me, grasping my shoulders, and my heart flutters.
“I do.” A tear streams down Mom’s cheek, washing away a streak of red. “I’m sorry it took so long to get here, honey.” She attempts to wipe her tears away, but only manages to smear the paint further across her face.
Millie huffs, then digs in her tote bag and offers her a towel.
Mom thanks her and drags the cloth across her forehead, her cheeks. Once the majority of paint is gone, she offers a tremulous smile. “Is Alex here?”
Alex.
A wave of sadness washes over me. One I managed to forget while I was dealing with the protestors. “No, he’s not.”
Then I remember Charlie’s words. That she was the real force keeping me and Alex apart.
I square my shoulders. “There’s something you need to know, though.”
“Oh?” She tilts her head, searching my eyes.
“We’ll give you two some privacy,” Evelyn says, and she and Millie return to the event.
Once they’re gone, I turn back to my mother. “Alex is Alex Cardoso. The same Alex Cardoso who grew up next door to us.” I hold my breath, ready for her to blow a gasket. Because as remorseful as she says she is, I’ve seen her go from zero to ballistic in the breadth of a second.
She holds my gaze, and then her face softens. “I know, honey.”
My eyes widen. “You know?”
A genuine smile lifts her cheeks. “I didn’t at first. It wasn’t until your grandmother was in the hospital.
I saw how much he cared for you. How he looked at you.
He’d been looking at you that way since you were fifteen.
” She eyes me knowingly, then huffs a laugh.
“And I recognized that glower, too. He had that same hostility in his eyes when I told him he couldn’t take you to the prom. ”
My jaw falls open. “He asked you? Why did you get Charlie involved?”
“I was worried he would ask you anyway. So I told Charlie to make sure he didn’t.”
My fists clench at my sides. “Why? Why did you hate him so much?”
“I didn’t hate him, honey. He was a nice boy. Respectful.” She fiddles with the towel in her hands. “He had also just turned eighteen and was about to graduate. And you still had two years left.”
“So? Why should that matter?”
She sighs. “Because I’d never forgive myself if you got pregnant like Barbara’s daughter had.”
My face pales. “You knew about that, too?”
“Of course I did. I told you, mothers always know.” She folds the towel over her arms. “You were smitten with him. You think I didn’t notice you sleeping in that sweatshirt every night?”
Heat engulfs me. This whole time, she was onto me.
“I didn’t want you getting pregnant before your life had even started. Because you would have given up everything for him. And you were so young. Even younger than I was when I met your father. I wanted more for you.” She gestures around the campus. “And look at you now.”
In some fucked up, convoluted way, it all makes sense. She was looking out for me. Because she wanted more for me than she had.
“You were trying to protect me,” I say softly.
“Trying,” she says with a half smile. “It’s not that I didn’t like him. And I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you found your way back to each other.”
“He’s an epidemiologist now,” I say proudly. “He’s brilliant. That’s why—” My voice breaks as the overwhelming heartache floods me. “That’s why he took a job with the CDC. He’s flying to Atlanta as we speak.”
Mom covers her mouth. “He left?”
I nod, crossing my arms.
“And you just let him go?”
I tighten my lips. Just when I thought we were starting to make progress. “Mom, my life is here. I’m about to get tenure.” At least I hope I am. After today, I’m not sure. Although the president had the chance to fire me, and he didn’t. That has to mean something.
“You know …” Evelyn’s voice carries from behind us. Has she been lurking the whole time? “Atlanta really is lovely.”
Of course she thinks so. That’s where she’s from. She built her career at Emory—one of the most renowned schools of public health in the country.
But if Atlanta is so great …
“Why did you leave?” I ask.
“I grew up on the East Coast and always glamorized California. Beverly Hills, Hollywood, the Pacific Ocean. And you can’t beat the weather.” She’s right about that—despite being mid-November, it’s seventy-four degrees. “But my daughter just had a baby.”
Mom clears her throat.
I roll my eyes. Yes, Mother. Sometimes even distinguished academics have children.
Evelyn hands me her phone, and the wallpaper on her home screen is a baby with chubby cheeks and the same brown eyes as Evelyn’s. “Being this far away from her has felt like a piece of my heart is missing,” she says, her voice cracking. “Which is why I’m going back to Emory next semester.”
“You’re leaving?” God, how many people is Atlanta going to steal from me? First Alex, now Evelyn?
She nods. “This is my swan song, June. I’m not going to be around forever. I’m looking for someone I can pass the torch to. A rising star in the field to champion my research and take it to the next level with their own.”
Holy shit. What a dream.
My mother gasps.
Wait … she’s not talking about me, is she?
“What do you say?” she asks.
Oh my god. She is. A shockwave tears through me, making my legs wobble. Evelyn Davera wants me to be her protégée?
“I … I …” I stammer, searching her eyes. And then I remember the real reason I can’t go. My shoulders fall, and I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Mom cries.
“Because of Gram,” I say gravely. I turn toward Evelyn. “My grandmother was just in the hospital. She—”
“June,” my mother says sternly. “If your grandmother knew an opportunity like this was on the table, she would buy you the plane ticket herself.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Now accept this job before I knock you over the head and drive you to Atlanta myself.”
A rush of adrenaline surges through me, and my eyes blur with tears of pure joy. “Is this really happening?”
Evelyn shrugs. “You tell me.”
I turn to Millie, whose jaw is hanging. When her eyes meet mine, we both squeal.
With a deep breath, I say, “Okay, Evelyn. I’m in.”
She claps her hands together. “Excellent. The semester starts January fourteenth. Can you be ready by then?”
“Absolutely,” I say, laughing as I wipe the tears away.
“Great. I’ll have Emory send you the paperwork.”
“That’s it?” I say in disbelief. “I don’t have to go through an official interview?”
She gestures to the canopies around us. “You just did. And you aced it.” She secretly came here to interview me? Wow. She’s good. With a wide smile, she says, “Welcome to Emory, Professor Wells.”
“This is a dream, Evelyn.” I press my hand to my chest, trying to center myself. “I can’t believe it.”
“Did a certain epidemiologist board his plane yet?” she asks slyly.
I check my watch. “His flight doesn’t leave for two hours.”
“Then you better hurry up.”
Right. “Millie, help me get this dress off.”
Millie steps up behind me, lifting the straps with a herculean strength she held back this morning.
“Seriously?” I laugh.
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” She shakes her head as she helps me step out of the dress. “You’re going to be working under Evelyn Davera. You fucking boss.” She swipes away a few tears of her own. “I’m so proud of you.”
She pulls me into a hug, as does Evelyn.
Mom, still covered in wet paint, grasps my hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t see all the important work you were doing before,” she says. “All the people you were helping. It might not mean as much coming from me, but I’m really proud of you, too.”
As much as I’ve learned to block out her criticism, her encouragement still finds its way in. I’m still going to need to come to terms with everything, but these feel like the first real steps we’ve ever taken in our relationship. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Now go get him before it’s too late.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.