22. Xavier #2
"Even after I stopped calling, you never reached out either. Not one phone call. Not one text. You cut me off, I cut you off, and neither of us ever reached across the aisle." She stared at my mother, tears falling now. "What did I ever do that was so unforgivable?"
My mother's composed face crumpled. Tears spilled over her makeup as she pressed a trembling hand over her mouth. When she lowered it, her voice was a broken whisper.
"You didn't do anything wrong," she sobbed. "Violet, you didn't do anything wrong. You're a beautiful, brilliant girl. You always have been."
"I don't believe that," Violet replied, her voice quiet. "And I stopped needing to believe it a long time ago. I stopped hunting for your approval years ago. I don't need it now. But I wanted you to know why."
She turned to me. "I think we can leave now."
I started to push my chair back. "And when we walk out that door," I announced, looking between them, "you need to understand that we're cutting you off. We're done."
"Please." My mother reached across the table. My father grabbed my forearm. "Please. Don't walk away." My mother's voice broke apart on the plea. "We can't lose both of our children. We've been terrible parents. We know that now. We want to do better. We just need you to give us one more chance."
I looked at Violet. She stared at our crying parents, then looked back at me.
"I want to think about it," she decided slowly.
"I want to forgive you. I want to take all of this and put it somewhere that isn't at the front of my mind every time I see your faces.
I want that peace so much." She locked eyes with them.
"But I need to see the change. I won't just hear it.
Show me you've changed, and I'll still be here. "
My parents agreed instantly, both speaking at once, nodding and offering promises. Their hands reached across the table before Violet had even finished. I watched the frantic display and understood: this was what it looked like when people finally realized they had nothing left to lose.
Violet had cut them off, they'd shifted their focus to me, and now I was gone too. Whether the desperation was love or just the math of isolation, I didn't know yet. Time would tell. If they changed, they changed. If they didn't, I'd be right there to protect her.
We sat back down.
My mother smoothed the lapels of her jacket. My father refilled his water glass. In the heavy silence before the small talk resumed, my mother looked over at me.
"How is Eliza?" she asked carefully. "Have you proposed yet?"
"We broke up," I said.
Her eyes went wide. "What? Xavier, you promised me you weren't going to—"
"It didn't work out," I cut her off.
She opened her mouth. The lecture was already forming, the inventory of Eliza's qualities, the list of everything she was about to tell me I'd lost, and then she stopped herself. Her jaw snapped shut. She looked down at her water glass instead.
That restraint was new.
"I'm with someone else," I added. "Someone I love. I couldn't keep lying to myself."
"Who?" my father asked.
"Sloane Ty," I answered. "She's Violet's best friend. They were freshman roommates in college."
My mother's brows lifted a fraction. Her mouth opened and closed.
"The Asian girl," she finally murmured. "I remember her."
"Yes," I confirmed. "We're together now."
My parents exchanged a long look. My father turned his gaze back to me.
"As long as you're happy," he offered carefully. "We're happy for you."
"Sure you are," I replied, dry.
My mother's mouth pressed into a thin line, but she didn't offer a rebuttal, which was, in its own twisted way, progress.
We survived the rest of the meal. Nobody offered another sentence with any real heft behind it, which was probably the most any of us could safely manage.
When the check arrived, my father paid it without a word, my mother suggested we should do this again, and I offered a noncommittal we'll see. Violet echoed the same.
I dropped Violet off at her building. She sat quietly in the passenger seat a moment before opening the door.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She gave a small nod, then shook her head, and let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm really something," she murmured.
"You were incredible in there," I told her.
She looked over at me, her eyes shining wet again as she pressed her lips together. "Thank you for being in my corner," she whispered. "And for—" She gestured vaguely at the draining afternoon.
"Always," I promised.
She slipped out of the car and headed inside. I sat alone in the dark cabin a long time before putting the car in drive and heading home.
The house was warmly lit when I pushed through the front door.
Sloane was curled up on the couch with her bare legs tucked underneath her, a mug on the coffee table, a canvas duffel near the door that hadn't been there when I left.
"When did you get here?" I asked, dropping my keys.
"Not too long ago," she answered. "I packed some of my things. I'll be staying here for a while."
"How long is a while?"
She looked up, insecure all at once. "Are you trying to chase me away?"
"No," I answered. "The opposite." I wanted to tell her: Bring every box, break the lease, move the tattoo equipment and the sketchpads and the six half-empty coffee cups she left everywhere into this house and never take them back.
But I'd just gotten her back, and I wasn't going to rush her. So I sat down close beside her and kept my mouth shut.
"How did the lunch go?" she asked.
I unloaded the whole saga. I told her about my mother's manipulative text demanding I bring Violet and how that changed my willingness to engage.
I described the tense restaurant, Violet's voice breaking when she asked what she'd done wrong, and the moment my mother stopped herself before launching into a lecture about Eliza.
Sloane listened with her whole body angled toward me, her dark eyes fixed on my face.
"I'm so glad Violet went," she murmured.
"Me too." I leaned back against the cushions. "How was your meeting?"
"He offered me the company," she said. "Claimed there were no conditions attached. Just a clean inheritance."
"Did you take it?"
"No." She pulled her knees tighter to her chest. "He'd find a way to weaponize it into a condition eventually. He always does." She looked at me. "I told him I'd give him a second chance at being a real father. But he has to apologize first. He told me he doesn't think he did a single thing wrong."
"He'll come around," I offered.
She let out a harsh breath through her nose. Then she looked at me, the corner of her mouth pulling into a wicked smirk. "I have access to your money now, remember? I don't need his."
I laughed.
I shifted, lying down and resting my head in her lap.
"Get off me," she complained, pushing at my shoulder. "You stink."
"I do not."
"You do. You've been sweating in the city all day." She pushed harder against my head. "Go take a shower."
"I'm comfortable right here."
"Xavier."
I kissed her bare knee and stayed put. She pushed harder. I rolled off the couch and stood, then leaned down to kiss her mouth. She made the face where her eyes narrow in disgust and her mouth twists sideways. I laughed and walked upstairs.