a look of awe on her face as we stare at the mansion. “It has ten bedrooms, 8 and a half bathrooms, a pool house, a private beach you’ll love, I promise. And this gorgeous house sits on prime, secluded land.”
“It’s…fabulous,” I mutter sarcastically, putting as much excitement as I can in my voice.
“Gosh, I can’t believe we’ll be living here,” Aunt Nicky gushes, her smile so wide, it’s almost blinding.
“In another woman’s house,” I mutter under my breath. “Can’t believe it.”
“What?” she questions, eyes narrowed on me.
“It’s nice.” I smile.
“Nice?” she shrieks. “It’s beautiful!”
“Yup!” I try to be enthusiastic. Smiling with teeth and all. She shakes her head but, like a pro, she takes the crappy compliment at face value, shooting her own fake smile. See, I come from a long line of sass and fake pleasing—which is why I’m not sure about this marriage.
“I know, right? Wait until you see the inside,” she says, clapping her hands.
“Wait, you’ve been here before?” I deadpan, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.
“Yes, I first visited just last week.”
Last week. Aiden passed away last week.
“Wow.” I stare at my aunt, for the first time feeling like she’s a stranger and I hardly know what’s going on with her. Not that anyone can ever say they know her for real. Aunt Nicky is a mystery, sometimes, she’s a delightful phenomenon and other times, she’s a bit childish and annoyingly strange.
“What?” she questions, looking at me with worry in her eyes.
“Were you here with John last week?” I question.
“Uh, yeah.” She smiles. “What’s going on, Mia?”
Everything clicks into place. The hostility from the Fitz brothers from last week, it all makes sense. She was here.
“Nothing, Auntie.” I fake a smile. “Tell us more about the house.” Since you know a lot more about it.
She smiles then starts gushing over the house and how the land is carefully maintained and that the beach is gorgeous at sunrise. She talks for what feels like an eternity as I stand there, feeling like there’s going to be an open war in that house the moment I step foot into their territory.
“Now, you might have heard about this, but John’s oldest son Aiden, he passed away recently.”
No kidding.
“He was sick for a while, that’s why their house is close to the beach because it helped him and it’s also private, to keep away from the paparazzi.”
Yes, the paps. I know all about that.
But with that comes another type of fear that had me gasping for breath when I woke up covered in sweat at four in the morning.
My mother’s face plastered all over the papers.
“Are you sure the tabloids won’t find out about Mom?” I question, feeling like I’m stepping into a twilight zone as I stand in this driveway.
I can feel eyes on me. I’d know that chilling feeling anywhere.
He’s here. And he’s watching me.
Guilt churns in my gut. I want to know how Liam is doing but I have a feeling I won’t be welcome to ask or to visit.
“John has excellent security here, Mia,” she says as she pushes mom’s wheelchair up the newly installed ramp. “They won’t find out about anything.”
We stare at each other for a second, not saying a word, but we both know it’s only a matter of time until that information gets leaked into the world.
For two and a half years now, the world thinks Nancy Montague, the best prima ballerina to grace theatres in a century, retired and is raising her teen, soon-to-be prodigy, daughter. The truth of her illness is not out there, and I’ve worked hard to keep it that way. So did my father.
Before, I thought he had doctors and nurses who came to the house sign NDAs because he cared about my mother’s reputation and pride. But now, I think he was doing it to save his own skin. After all, he used to tell anyone who would listen that he was married to the beautiful, amazing, graceful Nancy Montague.
Now, she’s not so graceful. She’s not always put together and the truth is, he doesn’t love her anymore.
“How long do I have to stay here listening to you?” I snap. “Mom needs to rest.”
“Mia.”
“And she needs to get out of the sun.” And from prying eyes that might anywhere, hiding, waiting to expose my mother. “She really is tired and in pain.”
“Trust me, Mia,” my aunt whispers. “This is a new start for us. Everything’s going to be alright.”
Everything’s about to blow up