Chapter 15 #3
She watched as her daughter, who in her mom mind’s eye only last year was learning to tie her shoes and needed her help to open a Capri Sun, now handling couture with the authority of an auctioneer.
“Okay, let’s put this all back. I need to finish dinner.” The words came out brittle, like the snap of a dry branch.
Blake whipped around, hurt and incredulous. “Dinner? How can you think about dinner at a time like this? This is the best day of my life.”
Jenna ignored her daughter and was trying to close the door when Blake reached for another bag, unsnapping the small, magnetic clasp and letting the contents spill onto the tufted entryway bench.
The ring was gold-and-diamond and shaped like a coiling serpent. The bracelet was a mosaic of enamel and rose gold, so intricate it looked like it had been woven from sunlight. The necklace, nestled in tissue, was a collar of heavy, interlocking gold links that felt almost weaponized in its beauty.
“These are Bulgari pieces,” Blake said, breathlessly. “They literally blinged out Hudson Williams for the Oscars. Mom, do you realize what this means?”
Jenna did not, in fact, realize what this meant.
Her knowledge of jewelry began and ended with the glass cases at Macy’s and the one time she’d been given a fake tennis bracelet for her high school graduation by Asher.
She could not comprehend why Deacon, a man who existed in a realm so stratospheric that the rest of humanity might as well be sea monkeys, would send her such a gift.
It made no sense. No logical sense at all.
She pressed her palm to her chest and tried not to have a panic attack. “Let’s just… put it away for now, okay?” She gathered up the shoes and the dress and zipped them back into the garment bag with a finality that suggested she was sealing off a crime scene.
Blake, however, had other plans. She followed Jenna as she retreated toward the front closet, her phone already in hand, thumbs ready for documentation.
“Wait, Mom. What’s in the envelope?” She snatched at the edge of the manila envelope, her movements fueled by a caffeine high of adolescent curiosity.
“Nothing.” Jenna moved it away from her. “It’s just an invitation to the gala.”
“It’s from Deacon, isn’t it?”
“What? Why? What? Why, why, why, would you say that?”
Blake took out her phone and held it up to Jenna’s face. Before Jenna could stop her, she’d snapped several photos as she explained her reasoning. “Because he’s a billionaire and he’s so into you.”
“Stop!” Jenna blocked her face from unwanted paparazzi shots. “And he is not.”
Blake stared down at the pics she’d just taken. “Oh my god, mom you are so cute when you have a crush.”
“I do not have a crush. Delete those now.”
Blake turned her phone around, and sadly, it looked like Jenna had huge puppy-dog eyes. “Yes. You. Do.”
Jenna grabbed at Blake’s phone, but Blake pulled her phone away. “Blake, I’m serious. Delete them.”
“I won’t post them, but what’s the rule?” Blake sing-songed.
“Do what your mother says,” Jenna stated flatly.
“Good guess, but no.” Blake shook her head. “The rule is I can have them on my phone, just not post.”
Fuck. That was the rule. Jenna took so many photos of Blake that Blake wanted her to delete, so they came to an agreement that Jenna could keep the photos on her phone as long as they never ended up on any social media.
“Oh, how the tables have turned.” Blake’s smile was so wide it was practically off her face.
“What is the job you were talking about?” Jenna changed the subject.
“Well, speaking of Deacon—”
“Mr. St. Claire,” Jenna corrected her daughter.
“I keep trying to call him that, he gets this tense look on his face and says, ‘Mr. St. Claire is my father, please call me Deacon,’” Blake imitated his voice.
“Mom, I have to call him Deacon. It’s his name, Mom.
He has the right to be called what he wants.
” She left a moment’s pause for the weight of his right to be called what he wanted to hang in the air then continued, “Anyway, I’m his new babysitter.
It’s not like a regular thing. Poppy’s his nanny but that’s during the day.
I’m his official, go-to babysitter. And my first shift is the gala.
” She pointed to the closet. “Go try on the dress!”
“No.” She shook her head and walked into the kitchen.
“Why not? Dinner can wait.”
“I’m not going to the gala.”
“Yes, you are mom. Don’t be so boring all the time.”
“No. I’m not going. And I’m not boring.”
“Yes, you are,” Blake argued. “And yes you are.”
“No, I’m not,” Jenna’s tone was harsher that time. “And I’m returning all of that. It’s ridiculous.”
Blake just stood there staring at her for a few seconds before she let out a forced laugh. “Mom, that’s crazy you have to—”
“Blake, I’m not going. That’s it. I’m done talking about it. If Noah’s coming over, you need to put the laundry through and take out the trash. Those are your chores.” Jenna continued chopping, she could feel Blake still standing there.
After a few seconds, she said, “Mom!”
Jenna didn’t look up, she didn’t answer. It wasn’t a discussion.
“Seriously? I can not with you,” Blake finally muttered under her breath before turning and walking into the laundry room, her retreat a symphony of indignant sighs and frustrated footfalls.
Jenna closed her eyes and exhaled. Three slow counts in, three out, trying to regulate her breathing and not have a full-blown panic attack.
She told herself she didn’t owe Blake an explanation.
She didn’t owe anyone an explanation. She had too many balls in the air to get knocks on the door with Bulgari jewelry, Louboutin shoes, and a Valentino gown.
She didn’t want her daughter thinking that was real life.
What happened if she showed up to the ball in that dress and then six months from now he got bored and was back dating a Kardashian? Oh no, sorry, a Jenner? Then what?
Tears started forming in her eyes. This wasn’t a fairytale, this was her life, and Deacon might think because of the night they’d shared that he wanted to be a part of it, but she wasn’t the freak-in-the-sheets he thought she was.
She was the wake up at five to do laundry and read because it was the only time she had for herself and then get in bed at eight to watch a rerun of Dawson’s Creek because it was her comfort show.
He had a very warped idea of her, and hopefully he’d get bored and move on. So no, she was not going to the gala, no, she was not trying everything on, and yes, she was returning the dress, the shoes, and the jewelry…
Okay, maybe she’d try on the dress. It was a vintage Valentino, and she was only human.