It was like the slow click a rollercoaster makes as it climbs a steep hill … you know what’s coming next and you have no choice but to embrace it and let it happen. And let’s face it, you knew what you were getting into when you boarded the ride in the first place.
My heart beat so wildly I thought I was going to pass out—then I remembered that all that separated us from a half dozen other people was a thin white curtain.
So I pulled away first.
I spoke first, wanting to show him that the kiss meant just as little to me as it did to him because I was certain he’d expect the opposite.
And then his receptionist walked in and the moment was gone.
Just like that.
I left in a hurry. There was nothing more to say. But what I wouldn’t give to have just one more moment like that with him, longer and uninterrupted.
He’s with a client now. Or at least he was when I left. But still, I wonder if he’s still thinking about the kiss, wishing we would’ve had just another minute or two or three …
My phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I roll over to retrieve it, practically choking on my spit when I see it’s a text from him.
* * *
MADDEN: I never looked at your tattoo when you were here.
* * *
I bite the grin that threatens my mouth and quell the urge to type back something smart.
* * *
ME: Should I come back another time?
* * *
Three dots fill the screen before disappearing. A full minute passes before he replies.
* * *
MADDEN: I’ll leave that up to you.
* * *
ME: You’re the expert. You tell me if I need to be seen again.
* * *
MADDEN: It is proper procedure. Got to make sure it’s healing properly. I can squeeze you in at nine tonight.
* * *
I’m sure my mother’s going to throw a million questions my way if she sees me leaving the house at nine o’clock on a Monday, but if it means getting one more kiss, then so be it. I’ve got hours to come up with an excuse anyway.
“Brighton?” Speaking of my mother …
I sit up on my bed, placing my phone face down beside me. “Yes?”
She stands in my doorway. I didn’t even hear her come in. “I’m going into the city for some shopping. Thought I’d get a head start on finding something to wear for Eben’s wedding. Going to meet your father for dinner at Cristiani’s afterwards. Would love it if you’d join me.”
“Isn’t it kind of early to be shopping for a dress for their wedding?” I ask.
She swats a limp hand. “Nonsense. It’s never too early. And if God forbid, I buy something off the rack, I’ll need to make sure the tailor has plenty of time to get it perfect.”
She chuckles, but I know she’s serious.
“I think I’m going to pass. Thank you though,” I say.
Her smile evaporates, and her jaw pulses before she clears her throat. “Brighton ...”
“Yes?”
My mother enters my room, taking a seat beside me on the bed. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You just seem a little … unlike yourself lately.” She folds her hands in her lap and then twists her five-carat diamond ring. “Maybe I’m imagining it, but it just seems like you’re a bit … avoidant.”
“Avoidant? How?”
“To be perfectly honest, Brighton, getting you to go anywhere with me lately is like pulling teeth,” she says. “And you never used to be this way. You’ve always been my partner in crime, my little shadow. Makes it difficult for me not to take this personally.”
“Mom ...” I exhale, sitting up. “It’s nothing personal. I’ve just been staying busy. And I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”
“A lot on your mind? Do we need to get you in with Dr. Greenberg again?” Her palm splays across her chest.
I haven’t seen Dr. Greenberg in years, and I’d be perfectly fine never seeing her again. That chapter in my life—after my grandparents were brutally murdered while I was asleep in the attic bedroom—is one that I’d prefer not to be reminded of.
“If you’re feeling overwhelmed, Brighton, perhaps you should scale back on some of your extracurriculars,” she says. I know exactly what she's referring to.
“I couldn’t do that to Devanie.”
For years after the incident that took my grandparents’ lives, my parents treated me as though I were more delicate than flowers, more fragile than china. They waited with bated breath, thinking I was going to wake up one morning a shadow of the girl I was before I woke up and found the bloody remains of the two people who loved me more than anything in the world.
They were my favorite people.
By far.
And then they were gone.
Taken in the night while I slept on a different floor, dreaming and blissfully unaware of the madness happening two floors below.
“All right. Well. I suppose you know what’s best for yourself.” She doesn’t mean it. It’s her passive-aggressive way of guilt-tripping me. “I’ll browse the young woman’s section while I’m there. Maybe I can find you something to wear to the wedding as well?”
“I’d prefer to shop for myself this time,” I say. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
Her crestfallen expression is one that I fully expected. I just didn’t expect it to make me feel so awful.
For twenty-two years, she’s had me under her thumb, like a willing and able spoiled little house pet. This is a lot for her to take in—this new side of me—which is why I’m doing it little by little. Baby steps. If it’s gradual, perhaps it’ll be easier on all of us.
“All right. I’ll go,” I say. “But I need to be home by eight.”
Her eyes light. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?”
No.
I nod. “Of course.”
“Wonderful. I’ll call for the car. We’ll leave in an hour.” With that, she leaves, and while she didn’t ask me about my plans for tonight, I’m one hundred percent sure she will as soon as we’re in the car with the Chicago skyline in view, when it’s too late for me to change my mind. I’m still not sure what I’m going to tell her. Maybe I’ll say I'm hanging out with Honor again.
As soon as she’s gone, I check my phone, finding a single text from Madden comprised of two question marks.
* * *
ME: I’LL BE THERE.
I arrive at Madd Inkk fifteen minutes to nine. Earliness has been instilled in me from a young age and I couldn’t change that if I tried. My father always said, “Ten minutes early is five minutes late.”
There’s a different person working the front desk. A man with cool blue eyes, an unbuttoned chambray shirt cuffed at the sleeves, and a full body armor of tattoos. I think he’s the one who chimed in the first time I met Madden, when I asked him why he didn’t have any tattoos.