The Right Swipe - Alisha Rai Page 0,38
any situation.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.”
“I know.” Sonya’s voice softened. “I heard CREATE was a success. I listened to the livestream of your interview. Thank you for having Lakshmi send me the link.”
Rhi wondered if she could give Lakshmi another raise. The woman just went ahead and did brilliant things like facilitate her relationship with her mother. “You’re welcome.”
“You did sound a little tired, though. Are you taking those vitamins I sent you?”
Rhi narrowed her eyes. She had been tired after a sleepless night fretting over Samson, yes, but how had her mother figured that out? Was she a wizard? “Of course I’m taking the vitamins,” she lied.
Sonya clucked. “You’re lying.”
“I am not.”
“I’m going to have Lakshmi put them in your coffee.”
“Well, then, you’ll double-dose me and I’ll die,” she snapped. “Is that what you want? To kill me via CoQ10?”
Sonya’s voice was frigid. “Watch your tone, Rhiannon Claire.”
Her mother invoking both names was worse than calling her a young lady. At what age, Rhiannon wondered, would she stop feeling the need to ram right up against her mother’s limits? “Apologies,” Rhiannon said.
“Hmph.” Sonya thought for a second. “It’s a little vacation you need. You could go to the beach.”
Rhi looked out the window. Crush operated out of a small tucked-away two-story building, surrounded by other start-ups. Her office overlooked a green courtyard. “I live in California. I can go to the beach whenever I want.”
“When was the last time you went to the beach, Rhiannon?”
She pulled her sleeves down to cover her hands. When I met Samson.
She felt a little bit like a sucker, for not hating him, for believing him so easily. But it was fine if she didn’t hate him, so long as she didn’t go and sleep with him again.
You don’t give zombies second chances. “I went to the beach last month,” she said. One of their employees had had a baby shower at a waterfront restaurant with a big patio.
“Sandy’s baby shower doesn’t count.”
“Do you have cameras planted on me?”
“Don’t need them,” her mother said. “I know you.”
Rhiannon imagined her mother in the kitchen of her comfortable Chicago home, a concerned frown creasing her still-smooth forehead, her hair in braids. Sonya had used to put similar braids in Rhiannon’s hair when she was a kid. Her mom had always made them too tight, pulling at her scalp, making her feel too restricted and hemmed in.
Rhiannon leaned her head back against the cushioned pink window seat. “I’ll take a break soon,” she said. She would. She’d go off somewhere and enjoy a nice day or two off.
Or a half day. A couple hours?
“I worry about you, Rhi.”
Guilt crawled through her, that same vague sense of guilt she always felt around her mom. Objectively, there was no reason for that guilt. Her mother had never made her and Gabe feel bad about the fact that she’d worked so hard to support and raise them. Even if she had, Rhi had paid her back for that a million times over.
Still, that guilt remained, a guilt millions of dollars couldn’t wash away, and she wasn’t even sure she could ever pinpoint its exact cause.
Her mother liked the money, but Rhiannon bet she’d like having a daughter she understood better. “I’m fine. Is there a reason you called?”
“I wanted to make sure you’d booked your travel for Gabe and Eve’s engagement party.”
She made a face. Travel arrangements were not her strong suit. “It’s so far away, don’t worry.”
“It’s barely a month away. There are some excellent deals right now.”
Travel was something Sonya liked to do with her trust fund. Rhi didn’t begrudge her one mile, and urged her mom to travel first class to wherever in the world she wanted to go, but the older woman had become something of a budget flight hound. Every day she perused the airline deals. “Cool. I’ll book it. Later.”
“Rhiannon.”
Rhi sighed. “I’ll tell my assistant, Mom.” Lakshmi would be bewildered at her planning something more than a week out, but she’d get it on her calendar properly.
“Tell her now, before fares go up.”
“I will tell her as soon as I get off the phone, promise.”
“And tell her to buy you a nice dress for the party. She has such good taste.”
Rhiannon gritted her teeth. “I will definitely not do that.” She looked down at her worn cotton sweatpants and old sweatshirt. When she was younger, her mother had always tried to stuff her in dresses and sparkly shirts.
Rhiannon’s signature look wasn’t an affectation. It