Not You It's Me (Boston Love #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,123
I’ve made Shelby break her five-year sugar hiatus.
That’s when I know it’s bad.
“You know how, in the past, I’ve teased you about having run-of-the-mill daddy issues?” Shelby says eventually, after she’s devoured her entire cupcake.
“Yeah?”
“Well, I take it back. I take it all back. Because, holy crap that is a helluva lot more screwed up than I ever imagined.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So, your mom…” Shelby’s voice is hesitant. “She admitted it? That Milo tried to be a part of your life?”
“Yep.” I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm — I’ve done enough yelling, today, where my mother’s concerned. “Apparently, he’s been reaching out since I was born, trying to be at least a small part of my life. He wanted to take me on vacations, introduce me to his kids, pay for college… And she never even told me about him. She let me believe he was this villain, this horrible rat bastard who abandoned me.”
“Gem…”
“The closest he ever got was this necklace.” I reach for my neck automatically, searching for the sun pendant, but my fingers brush bare skin and I remember I threw it off, after the gala. My voice drops lower. “I just can’t believe she kept all this from me. Kept him from me.”
“At least you know, now,” Shelby says. “Maybe someday, you and Milo can move forward.”
“After all this time… I don’t know.”
She shrugs. “Well, you don’t have to decide right now. You don’t have to forgive him right away — him or your mom, for that matter.”
“She says she was trying to protect me, but… I can’t help the small part of me that wonders if she was really just trying to protect herself.”
“Did she apologize?”
“She cried.” I swallow. “I’ve never heard her cry. Ever.”
“Jeeze, that’s rough.” Shelby winces in sympathy.
“I love my mother — she’s my best friend. But right now, I need some space from her, to sort my head out.”
“You also need to call your boyfriend.”
I groan. “I can’t.”
“Too bad, you have to.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s your boyfriend and you stormed out of his office crying your eyes out. He’s probably worried about you. Actually, if what I’ve heard about Chase is true, he’s definitely worried about you.”
“But…”
“What?”
“He’s going to think I’m an idiot,” I murmur. “I blamed him for all this, when he was really just trying to help. I took my anger out on him because…”
“Because you knew he could take it.” Shelby shrugs. “It’s not rocket science, doll. He knows you weren’t really mad at him.”
“He’s going to think I’m crazy.”
“Gemma, I hate to break this to you, but you are crazy.” She grins. “That’s half the fun of being around you.”
“Thanks, that’s really helpful.” I groan.
“If he didn’t like crazy, he wouldn’t be with you.” She reaches out and lays her hand on top of mine. “Now call him! Or, at the very least, send him a text to let him know you’re still breathing. Though, in all honesty, I’m not sure how you’re alive after eating five of those cupcakes. I can feel my organs shutting down after just one.”
I roll my eyes, grab my phone off the table, and text Chase.
So, I freaked out at you. Turns out, I should’ve been freaking out at my mother, instead. Forgive me?
The phone rings in my hand.
“Sunshine.”
“Hey.”
“You’re okay?” His voice is thick with concern. “Knox couldn’t find you. You aren’t at your apartment, you’re not at the loft, and your car’s gone from its spot. I called the phone I gave you, but it went straight to voicemail—”
“I’m okay. I rode the T for a while, walked through the park, then eventually picked up my car and went in search of cupcakes.”
“I was worried.”
“I know.” My voice gets small. “I’m really, really sorry, Chase. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you, I know that—”
“No.” He cuts me off. “You feel like freaking out? I can deal with that. You need to yell at me? Go for it — scream at the top of your lungs, sunshine. You need some space? That’s fine, I’ll give it to you when you need it. But bolting without explanation? Running away without talking to me? Without letting anyone know you’re safe — especially now, when we know for a fact there are people who’d like to hurt you?” His voice gets more strained with each sentence, until he’s growling into the phone. “Sunshine, that’s not okay. That’s never okay.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
I listen to him breathing over the line, imagining his face