When I nodded at him, he disappeared back into the bedroom in search of a shirt.
“Larkin dear, I thought you’d be gone by now,” my mother said.
“It’s seven in the morning.”
“Yes, well, perhaps I misjudged the time. I’ve been up for an hour, and when the furniture company said that the pieces were finished and could be delivered first thing, I didn’t even balk.”
“Furniture?” I asked in confusion. It was too early for my brain to be able to catch up to this. “What furniture?”
And then I looked around, really noticing my apartment. My couch had been pushed back against the wall. That must have been the banging that woke me. And there in its place was a brand-new white sofa. A rolled-up rug had been set against one wall, and several picture frames were next to it, waiting to be hung.
“Surely I told you about the redecorating I was going to be doing,” my mother said.
“Redecorating?” I asked, coming to my senses. “You were going to redecorate my entire apartment without talking to me first?”
“The place needs some sprucing up. And with how busy you are, I thought you’d be glad for the help.”
I narrowed my eyes. “No. I don’t need the help, and it doesn’t need sprucing up. I like the place exactly how it is. I don’t know why you thought that I would want this. Why did you go behind my back to do it?”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she said, waving her hand. “I’m not going behind your back. After all, you’ve been wearing the clothes that I purchased.”
“Clothes are one thing, Mother,” I snarled. “Sure, I might have needed a cocktail dress or two and not wanted to go shopping, so I went through what you’d purchased and wore it to an occasion. That’s annoying that you’d do it and just leave the clothes in my room without telling me. But this? This is crossing a line.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
Was she that delusional? Or did she just not want to admit that this was going too far?
“I don’t. I don’t like it.” I glared back at her. “I am an adult, Mother. I don’t need you coming into my life and redecorating without asking me. Would it be so hard to just send me an email about it?”
“You might like what I have planned,” she said, undeterred. “You’ve only seen the couch. It’s a whole concept.”
“Mother! You’re not listening,” I spat. “This isn’t about the furniture. It’s about you interfering in my life. It’s about my privacy, which you seem to think I don’t need.”
“Oh, I see. This is about your new little boyfriend.” She waved her hand at Sam, who had just walked back into the living room.
“Don’t bring Sam into this,” I told her. “He has nothing to do with what you’ve done here.”
“I’m just trying to ask about your life,” she said. “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
“Do you think there’s a reason for that?”
My mother just stepped forward and held her hand out. Sam looked at me once before tentatively shaking it.
“I’m Hope St. Vincent. It’s a pleasure.”
“Uh…Sam Rutherford.”
She pursed her lips. “Rutherford. Hmm…are you related to Broderick Rutherford in Connecticut?”
I nearly face-palmed right then and there. She was outrageous. Seriously.
Sam just laughed though. “No. I’m probably not related to anyone you know. I’m from North Carolina. Outside of Chapel Hill.”
“Oh,” my mother said, taking a step back. “I see.”
“Just stop it,” I said, coming between them. “Sam and I are together. I don’t need your opinion on the matter.”
“I was just curious what his family does.”
Sam grinned. “My dad works construction, and my mom works as a receptionist for the local church.”
My mother gave him her best pained expression. “How…lovely.”
“Oh, get off of your high horse,” I muttered.
“You’re dating a man whose family does construction,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t know why you do this, Lark. I swear that you do it on purpose to hurt me. As if not working for the company isn’t enough, you have to do campaign work and slum it.”
Something within me broke at those words from my mother. I’d already been worked up. Irritated that she had gone behind my back to refurnish my apartment for no fucking reason. Except that it was all likely a hidden agenda to get me back to the company. Because St. Vincent’s Enterprise was the only thing that mattered. Nothing else.
And suddenly, I was furious. Beyond furious. I blew a gasket.
“Give me your key,” I growled at her.
“What?”
“I said, give me the fucking key to my house. You are no longer welcome.”
“Lark—”
“Give me the key and get out. You can’t insult me, my job, and my boyfriend, all in the same sentence. We’re done.”
My mother straightened and lifted her chin. As if she thought that would somehow get her out of this situation. “You’re my daughter. I’m looking out for you.”
“Then consider me not your daughter.”
She jolted backward a step. A hand went to her chest. I thought she was finally getting it. Seeing how upset I was by all this.
“I don’t…understand.”
“Until you can accept me for who I am, then you don’t get to look out for me.”
“Lark,” she whispered.
A rumble of anger swept through me, and still, I was stuck in place at the weakness in her voice. I knew that I shouldn’t let her get to me. That I should stick to my guns. But for a second, I just wanted it all to work out. I wanted my mother to see me, really see me for who I was. I just didn’t think that was possible. Not when she continued on this way as if my wants and needs and feelings didn’t matter.
So, I stuffed the guilt in my back pocket and held my hand out. “The key.”
And to my shock, she took out the gold key and placed it in my hand. I closed my hand around it, and it felt like a ten-pound weight. My mother looked sad. But then it cleared away as fast as it had come, and she just returned to indignant.
“If you didn’t want me to help with your apartment and wardrobe, you could have just said so,” she sneered.
Then, she turned on her four-inch Manolo Blahnik heel and exited my apartment, leaving all the new and old furniture where it was. And two disgruntled movers with two new chairs in the hallway.
Sam took one look at me and closed the door before the movers could come inside. Leaving them to work it out with my mom.
And then I collapsed in on myself. I crumpled into a heap on the hardwood floor, holding my head in my hands and shaking. I couldn’t believe that had just happened. I’d always had a volatile relationship with my mother, which had only gotten worse over the years of my defiance. But it had never come to a head like that.
“Hey,” Sam said. He sank to the floor, pulling me into his chest. I leaned hard against him, letting his warmth wrap around me. “It’s okay.”