Chapter Four
Carly
I stifle a yawn as I step onto the elevator, wiping the sleep out of my eyes, as I press the button to take me to the top floor because nothing but the penthouse in the most expensive building in the city will do for my mother.
“Hold the elevator,” a familiar voice calls and I stick my hand out to stop the doors from closing. Ivy runs into the elevator, out of breath. She turns to flash me a friendly smile and her eyes widen before she laughs.
“Oh, it’s just you.”
I scoff. “Just me? I’m hurt, Vi.”
“You know what I mean,” she replies, shoving me as the doors close and the elevator ascends. “I take it you also got summoned.”
I nod. “Yes. Woke me up and then chewed me out for still sleeping at six thirty in the morning.”
“The nerve,” Ivy quips, laugher in her voice and I nod.
“What do you think she wants?”
She shrugs, yawning. “Maybe she’s found her next ex-husband.”
“Oh, that poor bastard,” I whisper with a shudder and Ivy throws her head back, laughing.
“We should probably warn him.”
I shake my head and reach out to grab her arm in a dramatic fashion. “And risk angering the Wicked Witch of the West? I don’t think so.”
“What’s she going to do?”
“To me?” I ask, pointing a finger at my chest. “Nothing but I’m not the one using the trust fund she swindled out of number three for us.”
“She wouldn’t,” Ivy gasps, her mouth forming an O. I don’t touch the money, but Ivy has no qualms about using the trust fund to her advantage. She was smart and used the money to build her jewelry design business to the success it is today.
“You know she would in a fucking heartbeat.”
With an adorable pout, she crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the back wall of the elevator. “I guess the schmuck is on his own then.”
“Nice to know where your priorities are, baby sister,” I tease her and she sticks her tongue out at me.
“Hey, I don’t owe him anything, and he’s a grown man… hopefully.”
I gag, covering my mouth with my hand. “Please never insinuate mother will become a cougar ever again. It’s bad enough when the men are her age.”
“Sissy, I’m certain if she ever found herself a teenage billionaire, his age wouldn’t even cross her mind.”
“You mean, eighteen, right?” I ask and she shrugs.
“Hopefully.”
I shake my head. “So gross. She’s got to be almost a billionaire on her own by now, right?”
“No clue but she likes to spend it as much as she likes to make it.”
“You mean steal it,” I point out and we both giggle as the door slides open to reveal our mother. She arches a brow and stares at us as we try to get ourselves under control.
“Well, aren’t you two in a good mood today,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and said good mood takes a nosedive.
“Or delirious. You called us over here at the ass crack of dawn.”
“Yeah, Mother,” Ivy adds, checking her watch. “You can’t invite us to brunch and tell us to show up at seven-thirty. That’s just breakfast.”
“Are you done?” she snaps and I sigh as I peek over at Ivy as she bites back a smile.
“Yeah, we’re done.”
With a sharp nod, she turns and walks away from us, her heels clicking against the marble floors. “We’re eating on the deck.”
“Seriously,” I whisper to Ivy as we follow behind her. “Who is in full makeup, a dress, and heels to walk around their house at seven-thirty in the morning?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Satan?”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing and Ivy nudges me, grinning. Mother peeks over her shoulder at the two of us and lets out an annoyed sigh. She wasn’t always like this. There was a time, back when both Ivy and I were still little, that she was happy, but everything changed. Maybe I was just too young to realize what happened but to five-year-old me, it came out of nowhere. One day, she was my Momma and the next day, she was cold and unreachable.
“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” I hiss and Ivy shakes her head, pressing her hand to her heart.
“No, no, sissy. I’m the good one and you’re the bad one.”
“Since when?”
Her “duh” expression says it all. “Always.”
Mother guides us over to the private elevator that leads to the top floor and rooftop deck, and after we all cram inside, she presses the button for the deck. The silence is awkward, and I spare a glance at Ivy, whose eyes widen in a “say something” gesture but I’ve got nothing. It’s too damn early for me to navigate the minefield that is Grace Mills.
When we get up to the deck, Mother steps out first and we continue on behind her as Ivy pulls out her phone and smiles.
“Is that Julian?” I whisper and she nods.
“Yeah. He wants to know what was so urgent with Mother.”
I flick a glance in her direction as she struts over to the dining table on the far side of the deck. “Tell him it’s a toss-up. It’s either the end of the world or she’s planning to redecorate and felt we needed to have this information.”
“Okay,” she whispers, smirking as she types out her message.
“What are you two going on about?” Mother asks, pulling our attention to her, and Ivy tucks her phone in her pocket.
“Nothing,” we both answer before sharing a grin.
Mother rolls her eyes and points to the table. “Have a seat. Rhonda will be up with food in a moment.”
“We could have just grabbed our plates while we were down there,” Ivy points out and Mother shakes her head as she sits at the head of the table. Ivy and I sit opposite each other on the other end and I bite back a smile as I think about how fitting it is—Mother on one side, Ivy and I on the other.
“That is what I pay Rhonda for, my dear.”
“So, Mother, why are we here?” I ask as the elevator doors open and Rhonda wheels out a cart full of covered plates. She turns to Rhonda, ignoring my question, and I sigh as I rub my temple. I’ve not had enough caffeine for this shit. Rhonda places a dish in front of each of us before pulling the dome off and I hold back a grimace at the egg white omelet and toast on my plate. Ivy’s nose wrinkles as she meets my gaze. We’d both prefer something smothered in gravy, but Mother would chew us out—something about not being able to land a good man with hips the size of Texas. And by “good”, she means rich.
“What’s this about?” Ivy asks, ignoring her food and I’m right there with her. If it were just Ivy and I, I would love to stay for breakfast but with Mother, I want to go as soon as possible.
“What?” she asks, looking offended. “Can’t I have breakfast with my daughters?”
“No, you can’t,” I reply, taking a drink of orange juice. “You’ve never wanted to sit down to a meal with us.”
“What’s so wrong with catching up with your mother? You have those silly little weekly dinners with…”
“Mother,” Ivy and I both say at the same time and she clamps her mouth shut. She’s always had a problem with Aunt Dottie. Maybe it was because Dottie called her a vindictive bitch at Daddy’s funeral or maybe it went back way before that; I’m not sure but we’ve heard this rant too many times to count.
“Fine,” she snaps. “I called you over because I heard a little rumor at the club yesterday.”
“And?” I ask. Does she expect us to guess? It could be anything, and knowing the ladies that hang out at the club, it’s likely I won’t give a damn anyway.
“When were you going to tell me you are dating Julian Henshaw, Ivy?”
“Uh,” Ivy stutters, choking on a bite of toast. “Where did you hear that?”
“His mother.”
Ivy’s face falls and I wish there was something I could do to help her. It makes sense she would hide this from Mother since the woman is probably already drawing up wedding plans and divorce papers for Vi. Her eyes widen and she nods. “Uh, yes.”
“Wonderful,” Mother exclaims, beaming at Ivy, and I roll my eyes. She doesn’t even know the man. But, as usual, all she cares about is his bank account and his name. “How long have the two of you been seeing each other?”
“Four months.”
“Excellent. And things are going well?” she asks, her gaze locked on Ivy, and I swear, she could be an interrogator with the FBI.
Ivy nods. “Yes, they’re going very well.”
Mother laughs, clapping her hands together, and as I watch her, I wonder what happened to her to make her this way. What was it that turned her into this person? Because I have a hard time believing she was born obsessed with wealth.
“Are we thinking wedding bells?”
Ivy groans, tossing her fork down on the table. “Jesus, Mother. I don’t know. We’ve only been together for a short time and we just moved in together.”
A look of horror washes over Mother’s face. “You moved in with him?”
“Yes.”
“How many times have I told you girls to get a ring on your finger before you move in with a man?” she hisses, pressing her fingers into her forehead like our mere presence is giving her a migraine. Hopefully, it is so she’ll kick us out.
“Mother, we haven’t been together that long.”
“Ivy,” she sighs, shaking her head. “You don’t let a man like that get away. Whatever you have to do to lock it down, do it.”
“No, I will not force him into something. We love each other and if we decide to get married, we will.”
I give Ivy a little nod of support and Mother scoffs.
“Love? Love has nothing to do with it. The Henshaws are a very influential family and Julian makes a good match for you, Ivy.” She turns her attention to me. “And what about you, Carly? Any men in your life?”
“You mean besides the orgy I had last night?” I ask, my patience gone, and Ivy chokes on her juice as Mother’s eyes bug out of her head.
“Carly Rae Mills,” she gasps, clutching her pearls as she looks at me in horror. This is totally worth the verbal beating she’s about to give me. “How dare you speak like that in my house?”
I bite my lip to stop myself from pointing out her “house” was paid for by all her ex-husbands.
“No acceptable man will ever want you if you keep up this behavior,” she hisses and I roll my eyes.
“Oh, fuck. I didn’t realize,” I quip, my tone dry. “What ever will I do?”
She stands from the table glaring at me. “Where did I go wrong with you?”
Without waiting for my reply, she stomps off.
“Probably spent too much time with me and didn’t buy me enough shit!” I yell at her back as she storms inside and Ivy giggles next to me.
“Oh my god, you will pay for that.”
I sigh. “I know.”
* * * *
I pull up to the curb in front of the little pink house, the only place that’s ever felt like home, and throw the car in park, more than ready to sit down for Sunday night dinner with Ivy and Aunt Dottie. After grabbing my phone out of the cup holder, I turn to reach for the door, but it buzzes before I can even get it open. Chance’s name flashes on the screen and I’m fighting back a smile. This man is ruining me. We’ve been texting almost non-stop since Wednesday night and I almost feel like a teenager again. Each new message that comes in has me falling deeper into this dark abyss. I know better than to allow things to continue but I can’t stop it either. I’m useless at resisting him.
Chance:
Go out with me?
There may be a question mark at the end of his message, but I know damn well it’s not a request. In the short time we’ve been talking, I’ve learned that he’s single-minded when it comes to something he wants and turns out Chance Turner wants me. He won’t quit until he’s worn me down. It terrifies me but there is also this excitement racing through my body, zapping me with sparks of electricity, whenever I talk to him and I’m not sure I even want to fight it anymore. It feels good. The kind of good I haven’t felt in a long time and like an addict, one little taste has me craving more. But thinking about it and acting on it are two different things. I’ve been avoiding this exact situation for so long I don’t even know how to act.
Me:
Sorry, I can’t. I’m busy tonight.
Smirking, I tuck the phone into my back pocket because even if I don’t know where this is headed, I’m kind of enjoying the ride. Sometimes I wish I could have met Chance when my heart wasn’t so battered. Or when, at sixteen years old, the most popular boy at my new school asked me out, I would have been smart enough to tell him to go to hell. I wish, more than anything, that I had something more to offer him than this empty shell.
With a sigh, I open the door and wave at Ivy as she steps out of her car behind me.
“Wow, you’re on time tonight,” I tease and she sticks her tongue out at me as she grabs her bag and shuts the door.
“You know Dot would lock the door if I tried to show up late and I’ve been looking forward to her cooking all week.”
I can’t help but grin. She’s right. Sunday night dinner with Aunt Dottie has been a tradition since we moved to Baton Rouge and it’s important to all three of us, but Mother has never made it easy. She used to say Dottie was a bad influence on us. Though, Dottie was the only good role model we had in our life and I don’t know where I would be without her. She’s sweet and always there for us but she doesn’t take shit from anyone, even us so when Ivy showed up to dinner late one too many times, Dottie locked the door. The first time Ivy showed up and couldn’t get in, she stood on the front porch pounding on the door and begging to come in while Dottie and I laughed until our sides hurt.
“And now look at you, showing up on time!”
She scrunches her face up as she pushes past me and bounces up the front walk, showing off in front of Dottie for being on time as she steps onto the front porch. Dottie just shakes her head, the beads in her salt and pepper hair clinking together when she does. My phone buzzes again and I stop halfway up the walk as I pull it out of my pocket.
Chance:
Darlin, it doesn’t matter when. Today, tomorrow,
two years from now—whenever you say yes,
I’m jumping on the opportunity.
My breathing stutters and I stare down at my phone with wide eyes as my heart pounds against my ribcage and my belly flips. How the hell am I supposed to resist him when he says shit like this? For the first time in my life, I feel like someone wants me for me and it’s addicting. I need his questions because it means this might be real. I’m not just a passing craze or a game to him.
“Don’t think I won’t lock you out either, Carly,” Aunt Dottie calls from the front door and I look up, smiling.
“Coming, Dottie.”
Me:
I’ll keep that in mind.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I walk up the sidewalk, unable to wipe the grin off my face as his message plays over and over in my mind. Just as I pass by Dottie in the doorway, her arm shoots out and she grabs my wrist.
“Well, look at you, child. You look radiant. What on earth put that smile on your face?” she asks, pulling me into a hug. As her arms wrap around me, I desperately try to get control of my face because I’m not ready to tell either of them about Chance. Not that I know what’s going on anyway. Dottie releases me and I step back as she studies my face like she can read my mind. Ivy shuffles out of the kitchen and I turn to look at her. She watches me for a second, her eyes narrowing, and she gasps.
“She met a guy,” she calls out, like an accusation, and I glare at her.
“Shut up. No, I didn’t.”
She steps into the living room with her hand over her heart. “I cannot believe you would lie to your baby sister. I know that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror.”
“Now, wait one minute, who the hell are you seeing?” Dottie asks, sounding more like our mother should as she releases me and I’m reminded again how lucky we are to have her. When our mother learned about Ivy’s relationship, her first thought was dollar signs.
“Uh… no one,” Ivy says, her eyes flicking to me with a pleading look but she’s on her own here. She tried to sell me out and it backfired. Dottie narrows her eyes, studying Ivy closely and my heart aches as I smile for a completely different reason.
Dottie is our father’s older sister and sometimes, she looks so much like him it’s almost like he’s here in the room with us. In some ways, it’s comforting but it can also sting like a bitch. After his death, this kind of thing—a family dinner—was non-existent in my life and I didn’t even realize I wanted it until Dottie insisted we get together every week.
“Who said I was seeing anyone?” Ivy asks. She spins around with a guilty expression and escapes into the kitchen before Dottie can ask any more questions. Dottie shakes her head and follows her, the loose colorful blouse she’s wearing billowing out behind her as she moves.
She has this hippie vibe to her and some people might call her eccentric, but she’s always been true to herself. It’s something I admire about her. After growing up around someone who was always pretending, it’s a nice change of pace to be around someone real. She’s the kind of person who does whatever she wants and gives absolutely no fucks to what anyone else thinks of her. I need that in my life. Lord knows, with my mother, I could have turned out way worse than I did and Dottie always reminded me what normal was.
The dining room table is already set as I walk past it to the kitchen where Ivy passes me, carrying a plate of food, and Dottie lines three glasses up on the counter and fills them with water. She peeks up from her task and makes a disapproving noise.
“Don’t just stand there gawkin’, girl. Grab those napkins and sit down.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Grabbing the napkins off the counter, I go back into the dining room and sit down just as my phone buzzes. As discreetly as possible, I pull it out and read the message under the table.
Chance:
Tell me something.
Me:
What?
“No phones at the table, Carly,” Ivy says with a shit-eating grin on her face that reminds me of when we were kids and her favorite thing was tattling on me. I sigh as I roll my eyes and stuff my phone back in my pocket.
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” I shoot back but she keeps grinning at me until I look away, a smile teasing my lips.
“Jesus, you’re grown ass women and y’all fight like you’re kids sometimes.”
Ivy sticks her bottom lip out as she crosses her arms over her chest. “She started it.”
Dottie makes a noise of exasperation and we both burst into laughter. “Will y’all just sit down and eat some damn food? I’m starving.”
Still giggling, we sit down and Ivy nudges Dottie as she passes the mashed potatoes to her. “I can’t believe you fall for that every time, Dot.”
“Please, girl. I still have nightmares about the two of you in your teenage years,” she teases and Ivy rolls her eyes.
“Oh, we weren’t that bad.”
Dottie quirks an eyebrow and pins Ivy down with a stare. “My eardrums would suggest otherwise. Sometimes, I swear I can still hear you two screeching at each other.”
“Oh, whatever,” Ivy grumbles before sticking her tongue out at Dottie as she scoops green beans onto her plate. I peek over at Dottie and hold back a giggle at the grin teasing her lips as she passes me the chicken. We’re quiet as we get our food and once all our plates are full, Dottie turns to Ivy and smiles.
“So, you’re seeing someone?”
“Um…” Ivy hums, trying to think of a lie but it’s already too late.
“Who is he?”
My phone buzzes and I sneak it out of my pocket while Dottie's gaze is locked on Ivy.
Chance:
What is it that’s holding you back?
I look across the table where Ivy is pushing her food around on her plate and trying her best to dodge Dottie’s questions before blowing out a breath. There is no way in hell I’m ready to tell him about why I am the way I am. The truth is I barely know him, no matter how good it feels to talk to him and flirt with him.
Me:
Holding me back from what?
“Good gracious, girl. Just tell me,” Dottie exclaims and Ivy sighs, peeking up from her plate. She knows her time has run out and she has no other option than to spill her guts.
“Julian Henshaw.”
Dottie is quiet for a moment then recognition dawns on her face and the sober look in her eyes spells out disaster for my sister. “I see. And how did you meet him?”
“We met at a charity thing Mother dragged me to and then we kept running into each other.”
Dottie’s face remains tight and Ivy sets her fork down, reaching across the table to lay her hand on Dottie’s.
“I know what you're thinking, Auntie, and I thought the same when I first met him but he’s different. He’s not like Mother.”
“I don’t like it,” Dottie says, pursing her lips and Ivy’s face falls. I know that this was Ivy’s biggest fear, but Dottie has every right to feel the way she does. She’s known our mother since she was a teenager and she watched her change because of her greed. My phone buzzes and I slip it out as Ivy pleads her case.
Chance:
Us.
Me:
There is no us. I just met you a week ago.
I barely know you.
“Please, Dottie. Just give him a chance and you’ll see he’s not like the rest of them. He’s kind and considerate and humble.”
Dottie shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Ivy, but I don’t like this. You can’t trust those people. The money, it goes to their heads and corrupts them.”
“Aren’t you the one that taught me not to judge anyone and now you’re casting judgment on a man you don’t even know,” Ivy fires back, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Look at how money changed your mother and look what her leaving did to your daddy. He lost his entire world to her need for wealth and then he lost his life. Look at what those little shits did to your sister. They’re all the same.”
Our mother moved to New Orleans when she was ten years old and three years later, she met our father. The way Aunt Dottie tells it, it was love at first sight and they were inseparable. She said you’d never seen two people more perfect for each other than they were and they got married as soon as our mother turned eighteen. Things between them were good, great, for a long time and then they weren’t. I have no idea what changed and my mother refuses to talk about it at all but as far as Dottie is concerned, money was at the root of it all. I glance up just as a tear falls down Ivy’s face and I suck in a breath as my phone buzzes again. My heart aches but I’m thankful for the distraction as I pull up his text.
Chance:
Hence the date. Just give me a shot.
I’m a nice guy.
My first reaction is to immediately tell him no, but I can’t even make myself type the words. Blowing out a quiet breath, I stare down at the phone for a second before replying.
Me:
I’ll think about it.
“I know you think he’s different but how long have you really known him?”
“Four months,” Ivy mumbles.
“Good heavens, girl. Anyone can lie for four damn months. You don’t know this man at all and you have no idea what his intentions are.”
More tears stream down my sister’s face and my stomach knots, wishing I could make this easier but I know better than to cross Dottie, especially when she’s just trying to protect us. Plus, that little voice in my head agrees with her. Four months is no time at all and it would be so easy for Julian to trick her into moving in with him before she knows who he is. I’ve also never seen her happier but what do I know? My experience with relationships is minimal and even that’s pushing it.
“I know him. He loves me, Dottie, and he treats me better than anyone else I’ve ever been with.”
Dottie shakes her head. “Sweetie, it’s so easy to be the perfect man for four months when you’re not living with someone. You’ve never seen him angry or scared. You don’t know how he reacts when he’s stressed out. These are things you should know.”
“We are living together,” Ivy declares and Dottie pulls her hand away, staring across the table at my baby sister in shock but I see the pain in her eyes, the worry she’ll lose someone else she loves.
“You can’t… what are you thinking? I will not allow this to continue!”
Ivy gasps and blinks at Dottie in shock. “You can’t stop me. I’m an adult and I can make my own choices.”
“I do not accept this,” Dottie says, almost like she’s talking to herself and I can’t imagine how hard this is for her.
Ivy stands up from the table and tosses her napkin down as she locks eyes with Dottie. Tears stream down her face and the pain in her eyes kills me. I hate seeing my baby sister like this. “I love you, Aunt Dottie, and I really hope you change your mind.”
Without another word, she storms out of the house, slamming the door behind her and my eyes burn with unshed tears as I look over at Dottie. She meets my eyes and shakes her head.
“Help her. Make her see. Those people will only hurt her.”
A single tear slips down my cheek and Dottie stands without waiting for my reply. I watch her disappear down the hallway before standing and setting my napkin down on the table. Her bedroom door slams shut and I’m sure she’s crying but Dottie would never admit that to me. She doesn’t let anyone see her pain. My phone buzzes and I pull it out with a shaky breath as I turn away from the hallway.
Chance:
That’s all I’m asking.
I scoff and slip the phone back in my pocket. No, that’s not what he’s asking at all. I can’t help but feel like he’s asking me to hand over my fragile heart and hope he doesn’t take a sledgehammer to it.