CHAPTER THREE
Meeting the Mother
ADALINE
I’ve been in this house enough times that it doesn’t feel like trespassing anymore. I’m holding flowers. Pink tulips wrapped inside brown paper. Juliette advised, or maybe demanded, that I get them. I promised I would play nice, and I wasn’t about to break my promise anytime soon.
The door opens almost immediately. Samantha Kingston looks as put together and composed as ever. Not a hair out of place, not a crease where there shouldn’t be one. Her eyes flick briefly to the flowers, then back to my face.
“Adaline,” she says. Just my name as a greeting would be strange if she was anyone else.
“Samantha.” I plaster on a smile.
“You didn’t need to bring anything.” She smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I wanted to.” No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire, and I sure as hell didn’t want to bring her flowers. She takes the flowers and passes them off to someone behind her without comment. It’s one of the many maids I haven’t met yet.
“Come in,” she says, already stepping aside.
The house no longer smells like freshly baked cookies that Juliette and I made in our underwear, but rather bleach.
Nothing lingers, no warmth, no evidence that anyone ever relaxes.
I step inside and feel that familiar awareness settle over me, the sense that I’m being evaluated simply by standing still.
Juliette is already here. I see her before I hear her, curled slightly into one of the chairs in the living room, phone in her hand. When she looks up and sees me, her face softens instantly, smiling brightly at me. My Juliette, my safe haven that makes this absolutely worth it.
“You’re here,” she says, walking over to me and enveloping me in a tight hug.
“Yeah.” I beam, hugging her back. You’d think we hadn’t seen each other in decades. Her hand squeezes mine once before she lets go.
We move into the dining room together. I take the seat I always take, instinctively.
Juliette sits beside me. Samantha sits across.
The table is already set, even though no one is eating yet.
Everything is aligned perfectly, like someone spent far too long making sure nothing was off by even a centimetre. For a while, it’s fine.
Painfully fine.
Samantha asks about the weather. About traffic, even though she knows there isn’t any. About nothing that matters. Juliette answers easily, laughing in the right places, visibly relaxing, and I smile at that. I know their relationship has come a long way.
“And work?” Samantha asks, turning her attention to me.
“Busy,” I say.
She nods. “Hospitality usually is.”
Juliette smiles faintly. “She’s exhausted all the time.”
“That kind of work requires stamina,” Samantha says. “Discipline.”
I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to that, so I don’t.
“And Oxford,” Samantha says after a moment. “That must feel very close now.”
“Yes.” It was closer than ever.
“You must be excited.” Her tone seems happy, but her expression doesn’t match.
“Yes.” I smile.
“You’ve worked very hard,” she adds.
Juliette beams at me, pride written plainly across her face. “She really has.”
Samantha smiles at her daughter, warm and genuine. “I’m sure.”
Then she looks back at me. The smile stays, but it tightens slightly at the edges.
“I’ll admit,” she says, folding her hands neatly on the table, “it took me time to adjust to Juliette being gay.”
Juliette stiffens. “And now?”
“And I have,” Samantha says. “Adjusted.”
Relief moves through Juliette instantly. I see it in the way her shoulders drop, the way her breathing evens out. I know they’ve had this conversation before, but this makes it feel more real.
“That means a lot,” Juliette says. I reach over and put my hand over hers.
Samantha looks at our hands briefly before softening her expression. “You’re my daughter. I want you happy.”
She looks at me then, direct and unflinching, but doesn’t say anything.
Juliette smiles, encouraged. “I’m glad.” Practically looking at her mother with hearts in her eyes. Before anything else can be said, Juliette excuses herself to go to the bathroom.
“I need the bathroom,” she says, standing. “I’ll be right back.”
She leans down and kisses my cheek again, quick and reassuring, then disappears down the hallway. The second she’s gone, the air in the room shifts.
Samantha’s smile fades, slow and deliberate, like she’s peeling something away. She looks at me across the table, eyes sharper now.
“So,” she says. “Now we can speak honestly.”
I don’t respond, mostly because my mouth is unable to open at this exact moment.
“This isn’t about you being a woman,” she continues. “I don’t care who Juliette loves.”
Now she doesn’t, but months ago she was berating me for being gay. Trauma aside, it doesn’t make it justifiable. I swallow these thoughts down, remembering to keep my promise to Juliette.
She leans back slightly in her chair. “It’s about you.”
“What?” I ask, bewildered.
“You’re intense,” Samantha says calmly. “You take up a lot of space.”
“I love her,” I say in response, which might not seem the best, but that’s all I have. It comes out as a protest.
“That’s not the same as being good for her,” she responds.
Good for her? I managed to turn her into someone who was actually thriving in her classes and exams. I practically taught her not to be homophobic, and I’m not good for her?
“She has always been stable,” Samantha continues. “My daughter is grounded, and you disrupt that.”
“How do I disrupt that? By loving her?”
“You come into her life,” Samantha says, “and suddenly she’s making life-changing decisions quicker than ever.”
Reality dawns on me when I realize what she’s implying. “This is about our apartment?”
“Her apartment. I don’t recall you buying it.”
There it is. What this is really about.
“You think I’m with Juliette for the money?” I almost laugh out loud. “She bought that apartment without telling me.”
“Yet you’ll be reaping the benefits soon.”
“I’m not with her for her money,” I grit my teeth.
Samantha tilts her head. “I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it,” I say loudly.
“Lower your voice,” she instructs. Has she still not realized I don’t take very well to being told what to do?
“No,” I say louder. “You don’t get to sit there and tear me apart, accuse me of being with your daughter for her money. I have a job. I worked hard to get to where I am… something you have no idea about.”
Born from generational wealth, and it shows on her in every aspect. She has never had to pick between a full belly or paying rent. Who the fuck does she think she is, talking to me about money when it was handed to her for her whole life?
“Yeah, you worked hard… getting my daughter to fall in love with you.”
“Fuck you,” I snap like a reflex, unable to control myself because of the venom she just spit out. She doesn’t look surprised, but then her eyes move to something behind me.
“Adaline?”
Juliette walks into the room, her eyes wide like someone just shot a puppy. I sigh deeply, knowing exactly where this was going to go.
“What the hell is going on?” she asks.
“She swore at me,” Samantha says immediately, voice smooth again. I almost get up out of my chair and punch her in the face.
“I told you to play nice.” Juliette grits her teeth at me. “Could you not do this one thing for me?”
My heart tugs at her words. “Juliette, your mother acc—”
“I don’t care, you don’t swear at her!”
“So she can say whatever she wants about me,” I say, “and I’m just supposed to sit there and take it?”
“It was one dinner!” She raises her voice while Samantha just sits there and listens.
“What is wrong with you? Your mother is literally insane.” I stand up from my chair. “You’re not even letting me tell you what she said.”
“Because it doesn’t make what you said okay!” Her face is getting redder now. “She’s my mother, have some respect!”
She screams the words at me, and I almost flinch, seeing a glimpse of the old Juliette I so very disliked.
Her mother is sitting at the table. I can’t ascertain what her expression holds, but I’m assuming she’s feeling very smug right now.
I hate being screamed at. Juliette knows that, and still she just did it.
“Respect is earned,” I say, resolute, trying to hold back my tears before I grab my bag. Juliette tries to take hold of my hand, but I yank it out of her grasp. My eyes avert to Samantha, and I say, “Congratulations. Enjoy having your stable and grounded daughter back.”
The door closes behind me with a sound I’ve heard a hundred times. This time, it feels different. This time, I don’t know if I’m coming back.