Breaking Stars - J. Sterling Page 0,8
try.” I pushed up from the chair to go inside. “I’ll be right back.”
Walking into the privacy of the goddess quarters, I dialed my mom’s number and relaxed on the huge pile of pillows that surrounded me. My eyes focused on the rivets in the bed’s canopy, and I stared at them while the phone rang in my ear.
“Hey, honey. How’re you doing?”
My mom’s voice instantly made me want to curl up into a ball and cry. There was just something ultra comforting about mothers and the way they allowed you to drop your guard with just one word.
I sniffed and wiped the tears off my face. “Hi, Mom.”
“You okay, sweetheart? You need me to come over?”
I smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. “No. I’m at Quinn’s. I’m going to stay here for a few days.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “How are you holding up? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I’ll be okay. I just need to pretend Colin’s dead and get on with my life,” I said bravely, then started to cry.
“I could have your father break his kneecaps.” She chuckled over the line. “Sorry, bad joke. But I’m so disappointed. I’ve had that young man over for dinner at our house. I cooked for him! Now I want to bash him over the head with something hard.”
Wanting to laugh, but not quite there yet, I sniffed. “Get in line.”
“I wish I had something better to say to you, honey. I’m just so sorry for what you’re going through, and I wish I could take the pain away,” she offered, her voice breaking.
“Thanks, Mom.” I breathed in a couple of shaky breaths. “Let’s talk about something else. What’s going on with you? How’s work? How’s Dad? How’s Stacey?”
“Everything’s fine here. Work is the same. Never changes unless something goes on with you, then my phone starts ringing off the hook and I come home to people camped in our bushes and jumping out at me every time I pull in or out of the garage.”
Guilt pinched at my heart. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Your dad almost ran one of them over. Claimed he didn’t see them, but I think he did.” She started laughing wickedly and it made me giggle. “And your sister’s good. She just needs to decide which college she’s going to attend in the fall so she can send them her acceptance and we can start planning.”
“Do you think she’ll leave California?”
“Honestly? I do. You know how she’s always felt about New York. Ever since you took her there that one year, she’s been obsessed with NYU. But I think she’s trying to decide if she really wants to leave home or not.”
I thought back to when I filmed a movie in New York City when I was eighteen. Stacey was about to turn fourteen at the time, but I wanted her to experience some of the things I was, so I flew her out for a week during her spring break. Her face had lit up with wonder the second we entered the city. Neither one of us had ever seen anything like it in our lives: the tall buildings, the nightlife, the people. Just like the saying, New York was a city that never slept. No matter what time we were up or what we were doing, a hundred other people always surrounded us. It was exciting, and when we happened to walk past NYU one day, she’d proclaimed, “I’m going to go to college here,” and I believed her.
“Yeah. It’s a tough decision,” I said, wondering what I would do if I were my sister.
“Call her when you have a chance. She’s worried about you, but she never calls you because she doesn’t want to bother you. She always thinks she bothers you.”
“I know. It’s because she calls right when I’m in the middle of filming, or at an interview or something,” I said as the guilt squeezed me a little harder.
“You’re always busy, Paige. Make time for her, please,” my mom insisted.
“I will. I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Okay. Be careful, sweetheart. We all worry about you. And I’m really sorry again about everything you’re going through.”
“Thanks. It will pass. It always does.” Not that I’d been through anything like this before, but I’d been around long enough to know today’s front-page news didn’t last long before being replaced by someone else’s front-page news. “’Bye, Mom,” I said before hanging up.
Walking into the bathroom, I reached for