Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
My face breaks into a stupid grin the moment I walk into Presley’s old room and see the open door to her closet, remembering how she looked pressed against that wall.
How long is one required to stay at their own wedding reception before it’s considered rude? Two hours? An hour and a half?
I find the overnight bag she mentioned by the neatly made bed and drop the shoes next to it.
“Hello, Hollis.”
My whole body stiffens at the sound of those two words. My back is to the door, but I already know who’s standing there.
Don’t turn around.
Don’t turn around.
But I do, because part of me can’t believe it’s her.
Part of me thinks surely I’m mistaken. Maybe it’s a caterer who looks or sounds like her. Or shit, maybe I’ve just temporarily gone insane.
I’d fucking take insanity over the sight of her standing in the doorway of Presley’s old room in a designer coral cocktail dress and nude heels. I nearly gag as the smell of that flowery perfume she always wore wafts into the room.
She looks older, yet still in her prime—one of the perks of having a kid when you’re still practically one yourself. She must be doing well for herself—or someone is—considering the diamond studs in her ears.
My lungs feel tight. My hands feel clammy.
This isn’t happening.
Not today.
“What are you doing here?” My voice sounds hoarse. Weak. I hate it. “How did you even—”
“I’m a guest.” She shrugs, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle on her skirt.
“A guest?” No. She couldn’t be. They wouldn’t?
That cruel smile I recognize in the crowd on the dance floor gazes back at me.
“Don’t worry, your precious Creeds didn’t betray you.
” She rolls her dark brown eyes, reminding me of all the times I thanked the heavens mine were green.
I may never know who my father is, but at least I can be grateful for his strong genes. “I came with someone.”
“You crashed my wedding?”
She steps further into the room. I take a step back.
“The record producer I cozied up to was more than happy to bring me along. Turns out his wife left him last year, and he’s been feeling a little lonely ever since.
” She fakes a pouty frown. “Anyway, it’s not like I had a choice. I wasn’t invited.”
“Why the hell would I invite you?”
“Because I’m your mother,” she booms. “You owe me!”
My hands start to shake. “You are not my mother.” I let out a pained laugh. “Pretty sure I made that abundantly clear when I took off twelve years ago.”
She begins to wander around the room, glancing at the art on the walls.
She drags a finger along the dresser, even pauses to pick up one of Presley’s compacts, and checks her lipstick in the mirror.
I want to rip it out of her damn hand, but I can’t seem to move.
My feet are rooted to the floor, making me feel helpless.
She doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as my wife.
“I never really thought about you after you left, you know?” she admits with a casual wave of her arm.
“I never thought you’d amount to much. Most men don’t, and the ones who do usually aren’t worth the hassle.
” She tosses the compact back onto the desk.
“But then I’m scrolling through social media one day, and there you are—and with the Creeds no less. ”
Fucking internet. I’d gone years without social media, trying to avoid something like this, and one encounter with an asshole paparazzi is all it takes for her to find me.
“At first I was proud. I thought maybe you’d learned a thing or two from me after all.
” She smiles. God, she thought I married Pres for money?
The thought turns my stomach. “But then, imagine my surprise when a quick internet search reveals that you are already sitting on quite the fortune. Seems like I underestimated you.”
My fists clench. You always did.
“What do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth. “’Cause I know you’re not here to celebrate my nuptials.”
She folds her arms neatly across her chest and tilts her head. “Compensation.”
My brow shoots up. “Compensation? What the hell for?” God, this is almost laughable. First Jace, now her.
“For the first eighteen years of your life.”
“You want me to pay you back? For what? Not dumping me off with social services? Honestly, maybe I would have been better off. At least in foster care, I would’ve had the slightest chance of finding a parent who loved me.
With you, it was never possible because the only person you could ever love is yourself. ”
“Is that why you came back to these people? Because you think they love you?” she scoffs, gradually closing the distance between us.
Her perfume is suffocating. I hate how her presence makes me feel weak, like I’m that eight-year-old kid again, asking why Santa didn’t come.
Because he only visits kids who deserve it.
“I—” The words get lodged in my throat. A victorious grin starts to spread across her face.
“I think it’s time for you to leave.” I look up to see Lance standing in the doorway with Tilly.
They look pissed.
“Not until—” she starts to argue.
“No.” Tilly raises her voice and steps forward.
Lance reaches for her, but she bats him away.
“No. I held my tongue the last time you were here, and it cost me. It cost all of us. But not today.” She begins to shake her head.
“I should have never let you take him that day.
I should have slammed that door in your face and fought you in court, assuming you even made the effort to show.
“But I made the mistake of thinking your connection to him somehow overshadowed ours because you were his real family, and we would always be just a substitute.”
Her eyes meet mine, and I see her pain. Her remorse. God, I never knew. She and Lance always seemed so confident—an endless source of positivity.
I thought they were the perfect family, and I far from it.
It was never about wanting more than what they could give. It was believing that I was worth what they were offering in the first place.
“I could go to the press,” she says in a panicked rush. “I’m sure they’d love to know—” But her words are cut off by commotion in the hallway as Hendrix and Cash run in.
Their breaths are heavy, and their eyes are fixed on Lance. “You said it was an emergency. We brought the security guard, like you asked.” I didn’t even see him pull out his phone.
Lance motions to me and to…God, I can’t even say her name. I don’t ever want to say her name again.
“What the actual fuck?” Hendrix glares at her. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”
“Come on, Hen.” Cash holds him back. “Let the security guard do his job.”
They step aside as an intimidatingly large man walks in.
My—she immediately tries to bat her eyelashes at him and explain the misunderstanding that has occurred.
When that gets her nowhere, she resorts to arguing.
The security guard stands patiently and unmoving through her tantrum and finally threatens to call the authorities.
That quickly shuts her up, and soon, she follows him out of the room without a backward glance. Cash and Hendrix follow them out.
The moment she’s gone, I let out a breath I think I’ve been holding for twelve long years. Tilly takes a tentative step forward. “I’m so sorry, Hollis. I have no idea how—”
I hold up a hand. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I knew she’d find me eventually. I just didn’t expect it’d be today. Or that she’d go to such extremes. Do you know who she manipulated to get inside?”
Lance gives a sad nod. “A good friend of mine. Had his heart shattered in his divorce. He sounded so happy when he called me to ask for a plus-one. This is going to devastate him.”
He won’t be the first. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. Like you said, she would have found another way.”
“About what she said,” Tilly says, her voice thick and her expression hesitant. I try to remember the last thing she said before they walked in. “We do love you,” she says. “We always have.”
“I know.” I smile. “Even back then, I think I knew, or at least wanted to. But knowing and accepting are two very different things. Growing up, anything that seemed too good to be true usually was, and I think I would have used any excuse to reinforce that belief if it meant avoiding heartache.”
“I’m so sorry we didn’t do more,” she says.
“You did more than anyone else ever has for me. And you were right to be cautious. You had five other kids to protect. She could have bailed the second you slammed that door in her face, but she could have also tried to charge you with kidnapping, or God knows what else. She’s unpredictable, especially when she’s desperate for cash. ”
“I just wish we hadn’t lost time. That you and Pres hadn’t lost so much time.”
I look past Tilly just as my wife rushes through the door, eyes wide and searching as she scans the room until she finds me. She lets out a relieved sigh. “I think we both needed time,” I say, smiling. “Me most of all. And I love our story. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Pres walks up, and I pull her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Nothing?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe a little less tequila. I would have liked to remember what you looked like walking down the aisle the first time.”
“Pretty sure I looked exactly like I did the second time.”
“And how is that?” I ask.
“Happy.”