Chapter 14
TJ
The phone rings again, and I toss it onto the other couch.
I don’t need to look to know who it is—it’s one of the three people who haven’t stopped calling me since Friday: my mum, Laurie, or that one girl I hooked up with two months ago who now works as a “journalist” for one of the tabloids, trying to get a quote or some inside information.
I blocked her number, but apparently, she didn’t get the message and has been calling me from different numbers ever since.
Let this be a reminder: never give your number to someone you don’t plan on seeing ever again.
“Didn’t you say earlier this week you’d stop reading tabloids?” West asks from the kitchen.
I did, and surprisingly, I’ve kept my word.
I had to after vomiting from reading the comments.
Half of the people online are calling me every colourful name possible, and the other half are boosting me for sleeping with both Cornelia and her mother.
If they only knew. So I decided to take a page from Cornelia’s book and live in avoidance and denial of what happened.
I haven’t left the flat since, and the only person I’ve spoken to is West.
It was actually working, and for brief moments, I forgot how disgusted I felt with everyone knowing what happened between Cornelia’s mother and me. I could even push aside the urge to kick Nate again, along with the bitter knowledge that he and Cornelia slept together.
“It wasn’t a tabloid, just some annoying calls.”
“Was it the reporter girl again?”
“Who knows? I didn’t look,” I reply, glancing curiously towards the kitchen where he’s been for a while. “What are you doing there?”
“I’m making tea and pastries,” he calls out.
I’m shocked. Is this the same person who once tried to make scrambled eggs for breakfast, only to give up halfway through and order food instead?
I blink. “I think I heard you wrong. Did you say you’re making pastries?”
“To be truthful, I bought them pre-cooked,” West admits, “and now I’m having a hard time getting the oven on to heat them up.”
That’s more like him.
I could offer to help, but I’d probably be as lost as he is. For us, the kitchen is more for decoration than anything else.
I snort a laugh. “Why are you doing that?”
Before he can answer, the doorbell rings.
“Don’t be mad,” he says.
I narrow my eyes. “What did you do?”
“I may or may not have invited your mum over for tea.”
I glare at him. “Didn’t I make it abundantly clear that I didn’t want to talk to or see anyone?”
“Yes, and normally I would let you go through whatever this is you’re doing,” he gestures at me, “to handle what happened. But since you’re not answering anyone’s calls—your family, their publicist, and the media have been calling me.
Being your personal secretary has become a full-time job, and I already have one.
So either you take some steps to face what happened, or I’ll invite everyone who calls me on your behalf to talk to you in person—even if they’re reporters.
I don’t care if the middle of our living room turns into a press conference.
I just need my phone to go back to normal. ”
I sigh. “Fine. Let her in.”
West goes to open the door, and my mum walks in. Without a word, she heads straight to the couch where I threw my phone. She picks it up, pulls out her phone from her bag, and mine starts ringing in her hand.
“So it does work, and you have been avoiding my calls.” She raises an eyebrow at me.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“I’ll go get the tea,” West says, retreating to the kitchen.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” she says, her gaze softening.
“The whole situation is… messy, for lack of a better word, but it would have been nice to know how you’re doing.
” She sits down on the couch in front of me, setting her brown bag back on the floor and smoothing out her matching dress. “How are you doing?”
I look at the art on the walls. “Fine,” I lie. I haven’t really been fine since that night in September. And I don’t know if I will ever be again.
She opens her mouth twice, hesitating, but the third time, she finally says it. “So, you and Cornelia broke up because you had sex with her mother?” She looks like the very question makes her uncomfortable and disgusted.
Can’t blame her. Every time I think about it, I feel disgusted too.
I nod, biting my cheek.
“One sugar and a splash of milk?” West asks my mother as he sets down a tray I didn’t know we owned with a kettle, teacups, and all the shit needed for a proper tea, and sits beside me.
She nods. “Yes, please,” and then she turns to me. “I have to ask, sweetie, does me being your mother cause you to have some unresolved issues with women?”
I glance at West, who almost bursts out laughing but contains himself. If my mother weren’t here, I’d flick him off. He shouldn’t be finding this hilarious, especially when he actually has a thing for older women.
“No,” I answer.
Talking about this with my mother is probably one of my worst nightmares.
“Then why did you sleep with her mother?”
West was very focused on serving the tea, likely because it was the first time he’d ever made or even served it.
But that question piqued his interest, probably because he’d been asking me the same thing.
Both of them look at me instantly. I feel all the attention on me, and on this topic, it overwhelms me.
“I—I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, though it comes out more like a shout.
“But—”
I cut her off. “We… we can talk about anything else except that.”
“Fine,” she sighs as West hands her a teacup. “Thank you,” she tells him, taking a sip. “I’ve talked to your Aunt Clarisse, and Nate hasn’t been very talkative either, but we both agree the best course of action is for you two to meet up and talk it out.”
“Not happening,” I state flatly. If I never see Nate again, it will be too soon.
“You have to talk to him; if you don’t, how will you two fix what happened?”
“I don’t want to fix anything,” I snap.
My mother looks like she’s not going to let this go. She turns to West. “West, help me here.”
“I’d prefer to stay out of it,” West says. He’s on my side regarding Nate.
My mum exhales heavily in frustration after not getting the support she wanted from West.
“Tristan.”
Fuck. Why does she have to bring out my full name? But it does grab my attention, which I suppose is her point.
“Cornelia is lovely and all,” she continues, “but are you really going to let your relationship with Nate be ruined over some girl?”
My jaw tightens. I look at West, and even he looks bothered. Everyone who has ever known Cornelia knows she is not just some girl. She is the type of woman who, if she had lived a few centuries ago, would have had men duelling for her favour and kings selling their kingdoms for her hand.
“She’s not just some girl,” I say, sounding more whiny than I’d like.
“I know.” She gives me a look filled with compassion. It wasn’t long ago I asked for the family ring for her. “But Nate is your family, and you have to forgive him. That’s what family does.”
“I won’t.”
“You have to,” she replies, sounding almost desperate. Why does this matter so much to her? And since when did family matter so much to her? She barely talks to her own parents.
I’m getting frustrated. I always knew my father preferred Nate over me, but I never thought my mother did, too. If she wants things fixed so badly, she should be at Nate’s—he’s the one who fucked up, not me. I didn’t sleep with the love of his life.
“I don’t have to, and I don’t want to,” I say firmly.
She opens her mouth to respond. I don’t want to continue this pointless discussion.
At last, it seems I’m finally getting some good karma—I was owed some after the last few days—because before she can reply, a strange smell wafts through the room.
My mother’s face contorts at the smell. “Is something burning?”
“Fuck, the pastries!” West exclaims, dashing to the kitchen.