I met his eyes and gave him a genuine smile. Something else that would irritate my mother. Apparently, I was feeling feisty tonight. “Actually, I’d like to try today’s special. And please, call me Cerise.”
He grinned. “Very well, Cerise.”
After collecting our menus, he disappeared.
I turned to my mother, meeting her shocked expression. She didn’t comment on how I insisted he call me by my first name, or the way I had been friendly. No, her eyes caught on something else. Her brow furrowed. I braced myself, gripping my napkin.
“What on earth did you do to your hair?” Her eyes raked over me.
“I didn’tdoanything to it. I’m just wearing it down.”
“Why would you do something like that?”
Because Liam likes it.
“I just wanted something different for once.” I took a sip of wine, my heart racing.
I felt like a defiant teenager, and though part of me was thrilled at her reaction, the rest of me was fighting the urge to acquiesce, pull my hair back, and assume the role of Anya Thornheart’s perfect daughter.
While I wasn’t ready to stand up to her—the thought utterly terrified me, she was still my mother, after all—these subtle rebellions made me feel better. Like I had a semblance of control with her. So if that was all I could muster up the courage to do, it would be enough for now.
It felt silly that at thirty-five years old, I still couldn’t stick up for myself when it came to her. But she was the only family I had. No father. No siblings. There was no one else. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to face the consequences of setting strict boundaries with her quite yet.
No matter your age, the desire for the unconditional love of your mother would always run deep. Even if you set boundaries, cut off contact, and healed yourself, the scars would remain. Deep and jagged and picked raw every time you thought of her; each time you witnessed a nurturing mother with her own child; every time an event happened in your life where she should be present and supportive.
I took another sip of wine, trying to focus on the conversation.
“Something different? I swear, Cerise, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Ever since your rescue, you’ve been…unruly.”
I almost snorted at the comment. Wearing my hair down was unruly? If only she knew how ‘unruly’ I’d been, splayed out on the side of that grotto while Liam worshiped me with his tongue.
Now isnotthe time to be thinking of that, Cerise,I chastised myself.
My mother continued, “Where has your professionalism gone? Your best friend is receiving an award next week which means you should be working even harder on your own career, or she’ll surely surpass you.”
What a ludicrous notion. I didn’t care if Emberly ‘surpassed’ me. In fact, I hoped she did. I loved her and was elated for her success. I would never resent her for her own accomplishments. She deserved every bit of recognition for her discovery.
“I have that proposal. I’ll be presenting it to the board in a couple of weeks.”
My mother took a sip of her own wine. One glass only. It would be highly inappropriate for her to be even the least bit tipsy.
Well, now I have the biggest urge to get blazingly drunk. Rebellious teenager, indeed.
“That proposal must go well. Would you like me to look over it?”
Usually, I took her up on her offers to help. As condescending as she was, she was brilliant and gave excellent feedback. But I didn’t want her help this time.
“No, thank you. I’m feeling quite confident about it.”
“All right then. I look forward to hearing the results.”
Our food was delivered. My mother’s salmon salad and my steak with roasted potatoes and asparagus, topped with a rich, hearty sauce. She glanced pointedly at my plate, but didn’t say anything about my choice in food, much to my relief. Instead, she brought up a different topic. One that made me want to crawl beneath the table and scream.
“When was the last time you saw Ambrose?” she asked.
Oh, now she remembers his name?
“I haven’t even spoken with him since we broke up. You know that. Why do you ask?”
