Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,96

It came from how clearly we saw and accepted each other almost right away.

It’s rare and real and you just keep spitting on it.

“Did I tell you we’re managing Petra now?” Mother interrupts Grip’s voice reverberating in my head. There’s no trace of the hateful barb she just tossed at me left on her lips. Only a smile.

“No.” I look out to the harbor again. “How nice for you.”

“I still think it’s a shame she and Rhyson never resolved their issues,” Mother says, taking a delicate sip of her liquor.

“Issues?” I snort inelegantly. “She cheated on him, Mother, with one of his classmates.”

“It was high school, for God’s sake.” Mother sighs her exasperation. “People make mistakes when they’re young. Two piano prodigies. So young and in love. God, the classical world ate up their dueling piano tour. So much potential.”

I’m pretty sure Rhyson dodged a bullet with that one and has no regrets.

“Well, all is not lost.” I try to keep my smile from become smug. “Rhyson has Kai now, and their first baby is on the way. I think Rhyson is fine with how things worked out.”

She didn’t exactly approve of Kai for Rhyson, but he hasn’t considered our mother’s opinion in a very long time.

“Kai’s due soon.” I study my mother’s unreadable expression. “Have you guys talked about that in your sessions?”

My parents and brother are in family counseling, still trying to mend what was broken when Rhyson left.

“We’ve missed the last few sessions,” Mother admits, a hint of genuine sadness in her eyes. “Not that Rhyson would talk to me about my own grandchild.”

“He’ll come around.”

Maybe? One day?

Rhyson has made a great deal of progress with our father but remains at odds with our mother.

“Why does your father get a pass and I don’t?”

That’s a complicated answer that Rhyson will have to give her because I can’t.

“You’ll have to ask him that.” I shrug. “Maybe bring it up in your next session.”

“By the way, Dr. Ramirez suggested we bring you in,” Mother says casually.

I nearly drop my fork. They were supposed to bring me in “soon.” That was over a year ago, and I still haven’t been to one session. I’ve been waiting so long for this, to be heard. To have my say about how all the decisions they made affected me years ago. How I’m still affected by the civil war that splintered our family.

“When?” I keep my voice free of eagerness.

“Hopefully in the next week or so. Rhyson’s been busy with that record label.” Mother says it with such distaste I almost laugh. “And your father and I have taken on several new clients in addition to Petra.”

“Just keep me posted. I’ll adjust my schedule however I need—”

A hand on my shoulder cuts the sentence short. I look up to find my mother’s best friend since college standing over me, her blue eyes and blonde hair a beautiful, older echo of her son’s.

“Mrs. Parker.” I cover her hand on my shoulder with mine, forcing a smile to my lips. “So good to see you.”

“So formal?” The gentle rebuke in her eyes coaxes my lips into a genuine smile.

“Sorry, Aunt Betsy.” I kiss the cheek she offers before she takes a seat at our table.

“Betsy, hello, darling.” Mother sips her third Bloody Mary. “When did you arrive in LA?”

“I left you a message that I was flying in from New York last night.” She smiles at our server. “Mimosa, dear. Thank you.”

They don’t fool me. Like mother like son. I have a feeling Aunt Betsy and my mother have done some orchestrating of their own to make sure even with Parker in India, speculation about us remains high. I cast a quick glance around the floating restaurant, my eyes peeled for cameras and paparazzi. Not giving a hint that I sniffed them out, I scoot aside to make more room for Aunt Betsy between my mother and me.

“Nothing to eat?” I ask.

“Trying to maintain my girlish figure.” Aunt Betsy winks. “Do what we have to do to keep our men, don’t we?”

If by “keep” she means watch helplessly as her husband screws half of the Upper East Side, then I guess she’s doing everything she can. She and my mother didn’t exactly hit the lottery in the fidelity department. At least my father is discreet. I would never have known about his indiscretions had I not come home early that day.

It doesn’t take long for the conversation to circle around to what she and my