I scoff. “Please. I’m not an idiot. We both know you would hurt me if you wanted to, witnesses around or not.”
She arches a perfectly sculpted dark brown eyebrow at that but doesn’t say anything to counter my point. Instead, she tilts her head and studies me for several long moments before asking, “What happened to your face? Did little Angelle finally snap on you? I figured it would happen sooner or later, with all the choking and—”
“Just stop.”
Creepiness aside, her words would sting a lot more if I hadn’t been enduring taunts from Laurel and her minions about my bruises all weekend. It had given that bitch so much joy to see me beaten that I don’t know how I’d managed not to knock her teeth down her throat and return the favor.
“So,” Nora interrupts my thoughts. She takes a dainty sip from her glass of water and blinks at me. “What happened?”
Vividly remembering what happened to Jon Eric, I decide this is the last person I’d ever tell. She had him killed to try to prove to me in some twisted way that she wanted to protect me, which I know is bullshit. She wanted leverage over me, and she got it. As much as I hate Laurel, I’m not interested in having her death on my conscience.
“It’s nothing,” I say at last. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, anyway.”
“I’m your mother, Eden,” she replies, smiling when I shudder at the name. “Of course I’m concerned for you.”
“Sure you are. You’re an overflowing fountain of care and love and maternal instincts.”
“You’re being rude,” she chides, as if she’s fucking June Cleaver and not Beatrix Kiddo 2.0. “I’ve always cared for you. Have always been concerned about your wellbeing.”
“You thought I was dead, remember?” I point out dryly.
“And I thought of you every day of my life.”
That I do believe. There’s something about the way she says it and the intensity burning behind her sapphire eyes that tells me she has thought of me, and I swallow hard, averting my gaze to the backs of my hands.
“Where were you all those years?” I blurt the question before I fully realize what I’m saying. I want to take it back as soon as the words are in the air. The last thing I want to do is piss her off so bad, she does something to Jenn in retaliation.
It’s obvious she doesn’t like that question. When I look up, her expression is frosty and she stares at me through narrowed slits. Shit. Have I fucked this up already?
“I’m here now,” she says through her teeth.
I return her glare, though I don’t say anything in response. I’ve got a big mouth, but I’m not an idiot. Not a big one, at least.
A chill settles in the air around us that I’m sure won’t dissipate anytime soon. I think the waiter picks up on the tension when he comes to take our order because he looks wildly uncomfortable, his gaze occasionally wandering curiously over my battered face.
“What can I get you ladies?” he asks, his tone formal but tight.
“I’ll have the lemon pepper salmon,” Nora says in an authoritative tone that I imagine would work magic in a boardroom. “And my beautiful daughter will have your New York strip with a baked potato.”
The waiter scribbles down the order and practically runs away from the table when Nora dismisses him.
I stare at her in shock.
“How’d you know I like New York strip with a baked potato?” I ask softly.
She meets my gaze and purses her pink lips in a knowing smile. “I know everything about you.”
This. Crazy. Bitch.
Plus, her words are clearly a threat. Jenn wouldn’t have that information. Momma was notorious about spending our food money on drugs, so we’d barely had enough left over for potatoes, let alone steak. It wasn’t until I’d moved in with Carley that I discovered my favorite cut of beef.
Just how long has Nora been spying on me?
We sit in total silence while we wait for our food. Neither of us is willing to give in and be the first to speak, and I can’t help but think of Carley some more. Now that she’s entered my head, it’s hard not to compare Nora to her. Whenever I’m with Carley, everything is just so easy, and I always feel so loved and protected. I don’t feel that with Nora. Not at all.
The only thing binding us to each other is blood and genetics. There’s no love here—not truly—and I doubt there ever will be.
To Eleanor Mallory, the only thing I represent is a paycheck, and I’m not entirely sure how that will all play out either.
Or what will happen to me once she collects it.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “How’s Jenn?”
The corner of her mouth quirks and there’s a satisfied gleam in her eye. She’s pleased that I broke first. “She’s fine. I promise.”
I grind my teeth. “Forgive me if I don’t put a lot of weight behind your promises. I need some proof.”
Her brow shoots toward her hairline, and I can’t tell if I’ve annoyed her or not. “You need proof? Fine.” To my surprise, she digs her phone from her tiny purse and punches in a number. While it’s ringing, she hands it across the table to me. “Listen for yourself.”
I tentatively put the phone to my ear and the next moment it clicks and a raspy smoker’s voice says, “Nora? Aren’t you with Mallory right now?”
My breath catches in my throat. “Momma, it’s me.”
I don’t miss the way Nora sucks a breath through her teeth when she hears me call Jenn that, but I don’t give a damn. This is the woman that raised me. And the more I found out about her—the more I dug into the short life of Alexandra Mallory—the more I understood the shell I grew up with.
There’s a pause, and then Jenn whispers, “Mal? What are you doing? Where’s Nora?”
She doesn’t sound high, or at least not so high that she’s incomprehensible. She doesn’t sound happy, either. Or very calm, which makes me think if she’s not high now, she will be very soon.
“She’s here.” I glance across the table at Nora, who will likely spend the rest of the evening tossing drugs at her baby sister just to keep her complacent, and hatred burns hot and deep in my gut. As if she knows exactly what I’m thinking, she gives me a little shrug. Squeezing my eyes shut, I cradle the phone closer to my ear. “I just needed to know that you’re okay,” I whisper to Jenn.
More silence. My mind starts to go crazy with all the possible ways Nora could’ve hurt Jenn, and now she’s too afraid to say anything to me right now.
Then, she murmurs, “I’m all right. Promise. My sister would never hurt me. Just … just listen to Nora, okay? She only wants what’s best for you. Then we’ll all be together and happy and safe.”
Jenn is so naïve that it hurts, but I don’t share my doubts out loud. I don’t want to stress her out because I know she’ll just hit whatever she’s taking harder to cope.
“Okay. I’ll hear her out. I’m just … I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I am,” she assures me, though I don’t believe her. Jenn’s never okay—not really. At least now I know why. “You need to go and get back to your dinner with her. She doesn’t have a lot of patience, you know.”