Page 4 of Terms of Exposure
"It's a long story," I said at last.
"I've got time." She gestured to the room around us. "Clearly."
This was going to be bad. But if I lied to her, it would be worse. She'd disown me. Set me on fire. Bury me in the yard to fertilize her herb garden.
I held her stare. "You're not going to be happy."
Her lips pressed thin.
"We met on a dating app. Months ago. I knew who she was—I'd begun looking into Elion—so I reached out. We talked for weeks, each of us keeping our identities secret."
She blanched. "You just said you knew it was her."
"Yeah." I dragged a hand over my jaw, the friction useless. "I did. She just didn't know it was me."
Her mouth fell open. "You lied to her?"
"Yes. For weeks." The confession scraped out. "And it almost destroyed her."
She rose, hands trembling at her sides.
The crack echoed through the room before I registered the sting.
Heat prickled across my cheek as my mother's trembling hand fell back to her side.
Neither of us moved. The ventilator hissed. Sebastian's monitors beeped on, indifferent.
"No son of mine—" She couldn't finish.
"I know." I stared down at my hands. "Believe me, Emma eviscerated me when she found out."
"Rightfully so."
"Rightfully so," I echoed.
"You better make it up to her."
"I'm trying."
"Well, try harder," she commanded, the words clipped. "That girl deserves better than a man who lies."
"I agree."
Heels clicked down the hall. Emma's cadence—light, quick, unmistakable.
"Please," I begged. "Don't bring it up."
"Don't tell me what to do," she snapped. "If I want to sympathize with my future daughter-in-law about my asshole son, I will."
Emma appeared in the doorway, arms full—three coffees in a cardboard tray and a chaotic stack of danishes balanced on top.
"Sorry." Her words came out tight. "This was all they had."
"Thank you," my mother said sweetly, glancing at me.
But I was on my feet, taking the items from Emma and distributing them among us.
"Emma," my mother started, face shifting to something apologetic.
