Page 101 of The Other Side
I could feel my cheeks heat as her words sunk in. Chance dropped the backpack and the dress onto a chair and went about fixing us coffee.
“Did they?” I gave a nervous laugh.
“From the moment you arrived, they were whispering about the mystery woman that had taken Chance off the market.” Amanda gossiped. “The prevailing theory is that you’re a French heiress!”
“What?” I spluttered.
“Iknow! I told you, you looked so sophisticated in that dress. It was made for you.” Amanda glanced at the heap of black velvet. “I’m happy it found a new home. It looked miles better on you.”
I choked a laugh at the thought that I would look better in anything than Amanda.
“Stop pestering her,” Chance snapped at his sister.
“Pestering who?”
The room fell silent, for Cynthia Roberts had just crossed the threshold. And I was wearing ten-dollar Walmart leggings and a ratty old university hoodie. I heard myself gulp when her blue-grey eyes met mine.
“Well, hello,” she purred, eyeing me from head to toe. I remembered Chance telling me how his mother loved children’s charities, and how he had gone to her to help him convince his father to aid Daniel. I knew I shouldn’t be frightened of her, but she was his mother…how could I not be?
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Roberts.” I robotically extended my hand to shake hers. “I’m Violet.”
“Don’t be silly.” Her once composed face broke into a soft smile that was identical to Chance’s. “Call me Cindy.” She wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug.
It was the hug only a mother could give. I felt a pang of guilt, thinking about my own mom. I couldn’t remember the last time I had hugged her.
Pulling back, she examined me again. “I’m surprised you don’t have a French accent, if rumors are to be believed.” Cindy laughed, making her way over to Chance, where she ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek. “You might have introduced me to your friend before last night, dear,” she chided.
“Girlfriend,” Chance corrected her.
My face grew impossibly redder. We hadn’t had that discussion. But I supposed labels weren’t really important. What mattered was that we were together and that there was no one else. That was enough.
Cindy raised a brow, leaning against the kitchen counter, not willing to let Chance get away with such a bold statement so easily. “The first girl you bring home in—what? Seven years? And that’s all I get?”
“You wouldn’t have gotten anything if Violet didn’t need coffee.” He smiled at his mother, clearly trying to egg her on.
Folding her arms across her chest, she glanced over his shoulder at me. “I hope he’s nicer to you than he is with me.”
Amanda giggled at the counter, enjoying the entertainment.
“Well, now you’ve met her.” Chance moved around his mom to grab two travel mugs from the cabinet.
“Chance…” His mother’s tone softened as she reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “Is there any way you’d consider calling your father?”
Chance froze. “Why?” His tone was clipped.
Cindy gave Chance a long, hard look. “You’re his son. He misses you.”
Chance laughed while he poured coffee into the mugs, shaking his head, as if her response was meant to have been a joke. “He doesn’t miss me. He misses having a son on a leash to paradearound at parties for his business associates. He misses having a male heir he can tell them will be taking over operations when he’s gone, so they’ll invest more money with him. He misses not having to lie on the golf course when someone asks if his family is well, because he has no idea where I am, let alone how I’m doing.”
Cindy bristled. She appeared to have known she’d be in for a fight, but I don’t think that she’d expected him to clap back so sharply. “Well, think about it,” she suggested warily.
“Think about it?” Chance paused, tipping his chin down to look his mother in the eyes. “Does he think about Daniel? Does he think about anyone but himself?”
“That’s enough.” She pursed her lips, seemingly aware of how this must look to the interloper who was standing in their kitchen with hair that looked like she’d been freshly fucked and sneakers that had a hole in the sole.
Chance poured a fair amount of sugar into one of the mugs before tightening the lids securely. “We have to get on the road.” He handed me the mugs, and I made a note of which one held my precious sweetener.
Grabbing the backpack and dress in one hand, he placed the other at the small of my back, pressing firmly to steer me outside into the cold.
