The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,100
He pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head. “We should have listened to you from the start.”
I nearly choked on that. “Wow.”
“You know you could be doing amazing things with the company still,” my mother said with a grin.
“Mother,” I said with a sigh.
“Hope, we talked about this.”
My mother chewed on her bottom lip and straightened. “Of course. We see that you’re…happy?”
It was more of a question than a statement, but I could see she was trying.
“I am.”
“It’s not what we would have wanted for you,” my father said.
“I know.”
“And the door is always open,” my mother added hopefully.
“That I am also aware of,” I said with a small laugh.
“We could start with brunch?” my mother suggested.
“Great idea. Lark, you should bring Sam over for brunch sometime,” my father said and then turned to address Sam. “We’d like to get to know you better.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
I hugged them both one more time. It was a step in the right direction. Not perfect by any means. But they were my parents. They’d spent their life expecting me to fall into line, and it would take some time for us to patch this all up. If we ever were able to.
So, I waved good-bye and then they fell back into step with their friends and other big donors. But I just stood there for another moment.
“Did that just happen?” I asked Sam. “I didn’t just dream it?”
“Looks like your parents have finally come around.”
“Not completely. But maybe just maybe they will eventually.”
“You stood up to your mom. She wants to be a part of your life, and you told her there was only one way to do it. So, she did it.”
“And I didn’t think people could change.”
He took my hand and pulled me close. “You’ve changed me for the better.”
“Yes, that’s true. And you’ve changed me for the better.”
“Come on. Let’s go celebrate your victory.”
“Our victory.”
And then we walked hand in hand back toward our friends and the future we had created for ourselves. A bright and glorious future.
Epilogue
Six Months Later -- Lark
“We’re still on for dinner, right?” Sam asked.
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me through the phone. “Yes. Definitely. I’m ready to get out of here to meet you.”
He laughed. “Me too. We’ve been swamped all day today.”
“Should I just meet you at Buns later? Or did you want to go together?”
“Meeting me is fine.”
“Okay.” I glanced at the time. “I have to get going. I have a meeting with Leslie.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too,” I said before hanging up the phone.
The last six months had been a hectic, amazing, brilliant time in my life. Sam had moved in right after the primary. English had moved upstairs to her own place on the same day. I loved having my best friend close and, even more, having Sam with me all the time.
Almost as much as I loved working as Leslie’s chief of staff. Shawn had gone to help elect someone else as soon as the campaign was over, and Leslie had asked me to stay on for her top position. It had been an honor to accept.
I hopped out of my chair and knocked on the door that led into the mayor’s office. Then before she even had time to answer, I strode in, looking down at my tablet with the list of things we needed to discuss today.
“Hi, Leslie. Everything is prepared for your speech at the charity function tomorrow night. And then the groundbreaking for the new domestic violence facility is coming up…”
“Lark,” Leslie said with a small chuckle. “Why don’t we sit down?”
I glanced up in surprise to find Leslie walking around her hulking desk and coming around to the couches in front of them. She took the head armchair, and I sank into a blue couch next to her.
“Should I start over with the agenda?”
“Put the agenda away. That’s not what this meeting is about.”
“Okay,” I said as I set the tablet on the seat next to me.
“I need to tell you something. Something I haven’t spoken to about with anyone else, except my children,” she said evenly.
I frowned. I didn’t like where this was going. It couldn’t be good. Was she sick? Was she going to have to take a step back? She looked so serious. It made me nervous.
“But I want your honest opinion on this. You’re not talking to your boss. You’re talking to a friend.”
“Okay,” I said carefully. “I like to think we’re friends.”