“Now I can never marry you. It’s my life’s purpose to disappoint her in every decision I make.”
I arch a brow. “Don’t underestimate me, Addie. I’ll become a poor man for you.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t even know your last name. Or your birthday.”
I grin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize those things were so important.”
She glares at me, conjuring all the sass from the fellow women around the world and inserting it into that single look. It only makes me smile wider.
“Aren’t we having a heart-to-heart? Plus, you keep threatening me with marriage. Shouldn’t I know your last name?”
“Does this mean you’re actually going to take my threats seriously and marry me?”
She sighs, waltzing right into that one. She knows it, too.
“It’s a simple question. The kind of question anyone would ask on the first date. Or even before the first date just in case the man ends up being an obsessive stalker who murders people.”
I tip my head back, a deep laugh pouring from my throat.
“My birthday is September 7th,” I tell her.
“Doesn’t surprise me that you’re a Virgo. Next,” she prompts sassily, waiting for my next answer. I bite my lip, tempted to spank her ass and give her a reason to be sassy.
“Meadows, baby. Our last name is Meadows.”
“Yours. Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’ll be expected to beg.”
There’s no stopping the savage grin from gracing my lips. “I love to beg.”
“Whatever, creep. We were talking about my mom, not marriage.”
I get comfortable, fully facing her and propping my head on my hand. Her eyes flutter when I notch my finger under her chin, demanding her full attention. Gently, she pulls away, but I don’t let it bother me. It’s a start.
“Your mom doesn’t hate you, Addie. She hates herself. And she doesn’t resent you because you’re not living the life she wanted for herself, she resents you because you were living the life you wanted, and she wasn’t.”
She stares at me, seeming to contemplate that.
“The best thing you can do is keep living that life, little mouse. Continue being a successful author who loves horror movies and haunted fairs. Who loves her Nana and the gothic mansion she inherited and finds a thrill out of the ghosts that walk the halls. You’ve always been unapologetically you.”
She wrinkles her nose as if she’s disgusted. “So, you’re wise and shit, too?” She scoffs, a sound of abhorrence, though there’s a faint glimmer in her eye. “Despicable. What are you bad at?”
My smile turns salacious, enjoying the way red tints her cheeks. “I’m very bad at lots of things. And I hear that practice makes perfect.”
She groans and shoves me, and I laugh when she flips over, turning her back to me. We both know she’s laughing, too, but she just isn’t ready to admit it yet.
That’s okay. I’ve got nothing but time.
Chapter 24
The Diamond
“I have an awkward question,” I start, and I almost immediately regret saying anything at all when Zade grins slyly at me. He probably thinks I’m going to ask him to do something weird.
This will be the first time I’m planning on leaving the property since I’ve been home, and my anxiety is high. It’s been a little over a week since I had talked about my mom with Zade, and it made me feel… better. Enough to get up every day, shower, take walks to the cliff, get some fresh air, and just… live.
I think I’ve reached the point where I need to feel human again, but there’s been one nagging concern in my head that’s keeping me from feeling that.
“Can… Would you mind driving me to the clinic?”
Usually, I’d drive myself, but the thought of getting behind the wheel again makes me break out in hives. My car was totaled in the accident, and even though Zade bought me a new one, I can hardly get in it without having an anxiety attack. Plus, it’s missing the ketchup stain on the roof, and I miss that stain. I still don’t remember where it came from, but I’m pretty sure it was from a flyaway French fry after I hit a speed bump too hard.
So anyway, I decided Zade taking me would cause more annoyance, but less panic.
His face relaxes, and I think he knows what I’m asking.
“Sure, baby,” he agrees, nodding toward the door. “I’ll be in the car.”
He stands, then pauses and looks at me. “And by the way, nothing is awkward between us. If you need me to pluck a butthole hair, I’ll do it.” He shrugs, “Or you know, pop an ingrown hair on your vagina.”