I’m shaken up.

Completely, and quite literally. I haven’t stopped trembling since Trent showed up at Amelia’s. I met him at a restaurant down the road because I wanted to break up with him in public, somewhere I felt comfortable. He left before I did, but he must have waited and followed me.

I feel like he’s watching me right now.

And what he’s seeing is probably pissing him off. Erik and I walking across the parking lot, on our way to the brewery across the street. To be completely honest, I didn’t even realize there was a brewery across the street. But I don’t hang out in the NoDa neighborhood very often. The only reason I chose the restaurant down the road, as the spot to meet Trent, is because it’s not one of the normal places we go to, so there was less chance there would be someone there who knew us.

Trent wasn’t going to be happy with me breaking up with him at all, let alone in a place where he could be embarrassed in front of colleagues or friends. Plus, I know the owner, so I felt comfortable in case Trent pulled anything shady, like he did at Amelia’s.

When my heel catches in the rocks of Home on the Range Brewing’s parking lot, Erik immediately tightens his grip on me to keep me from falling.

“Whoa! I got you.” Instead of letting me go right away, he holds onto me until I regain my balance. I appreciate that extra moment. The safety in stability. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Should’ve changed my shoes before we went off-roading,” I quip.

Erik chuckles. “I should have warned you of the rough terrain.”

We’ve never spent time together outside of my parents’ yard, and yet, it feels so easy being with him. Not that I expected any different, since we always got along, but it’s refreshing to be out with someone where I feel so comfortable and free to say anything. It’s easy to have surface relationships. I know thousands of people in a friendly, acquaintance way, but when Erik opened up to me, I knew I could do the same. He’s trusting me with the most important secret in his life. Having that level of trust, after years of not being able to talk about certain aspects of my life, is scary and a relief at the same time.

Erik guides me up a few stairs to the entrance of the brewery. His touch is warm and comforting—and familiar. Like we’ve been intimate before.

We never have. In all those years sitting together, with our backs against the huge black walnut in Mama and Daddy’s yard, we never did anything other than talk. Never even held hands. Now, with his hand on my back and the feeling zinging around in my core that his touch brings, I’m thinking it was a huge shame. All those lost opportunities. Erik could have been my first kiss. He could have been my first of a lot of things.

As enticing as it sounds now, I also appreciate how innocent it was. I didn’t need to move any faster than I did. And honestly, I don’t need the sweet memory of our time together tainted by hormones and forbidden love. I can only imagine what kind of torment I would have gone through if any of my friends found out I’d kissed the lawn boy.

And yet, here I am. And all I can think about is kissing the lawn guy right now.

Erik is more of a friend than just the “help.” But still. That’s what Erik meant when he said there would be backlash.

Someone in my group of friends, someone I work with, or someone my parents know is going to comment. And when those comments come, they won’t be very nice. To my face, it’ll be a fake smile or a tone of pity. The claws will come out behind my back—I know because I’ve been on that side.

I’ve been the girl who judges someone for who they’re dating or what they’re wearing. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not going to deny it. Erik saved my life, and it’s my duty to help him if I can. It’s up to me to figure out how I’m going to handle the snark.

Honestly, it doesn’t bother me as much now as it would have back when I was a teenager. I put too much stock in what people thought about me then. I wanted—no, needed—their acceptance. I needed their approval. I’d take any criticism straight to heart and make changes, as needed, to get back in their good graces.

Thankfully, I was one of the leaders in my group of friends, so it wouldn’t take much to smooth things over. I’ve always been loud, outgoing, willing to put myself out there. The one who would make mistakes and ask for forgiveness instead of permission.

Erik puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me up a set of stairs to a large brick building. The front has a long patio with multiple metal picnic tables. We enter through a large rolled-up garage-type door. After passing a roped-off section, where several huge brewing tanks stand, we arrive at the corner of a long U-shaped bar. I love how open and airy the space is. It’s got a clean, rustic, modern vibe. Behind the bar, the words, “Let your taste buds roam,” fashioned from black mosaic tiles, scroll over a white-tile backsplash. Below the phrase, there’s a row of wooden taps.

“Hey, Paul!” Erik nods to the guy behind the bar. Paul smiles and waves. Then he says something to the patron he was talking to and raps his knuckles against the bar before coming to greet us.

“Erik! How’s it going, man?” They fist bump across the bar.

“It’s hotter than two squirrels fucking in a wool sock out there, but business is steady, so I can’t complain.”

Paul shakes his head and laughs. “I have never heard that one before.”

“One of my clients said it yesterday. Thought I’d try it out.”

“Was that Mr. Farthington?” I ask.

“It was.”

“That man is something else. He doesn’t have a lick of sense, but he’s funny as all get-out,” I say without taking my eyes off the huge chalk board on the wall behind the bar that lists the beers on tap.

Erik puts his hand on my back. “Paul, this is Maddie.”

“Hi, Maddie. First time here?” Paul asks.

“Is it that obvious?” I ask, shifting my eyes to the bartender.

“You have that deer-in-the-headlights look that a lot of people have when they’ve never been here before. Take a look at the list, and let me know if there’s something you want to try. I’ll pour you a sample.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest thing! Thanks, Paul.”

“I am the sweetest thing, but I don’t think Erik likes hearing that.” Paul winks. “Let me grab a pint for Rob. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves us to pour a goblet of something beautiful and amber for another patron. I scan the descriptions under each beer name, wondering which one it is.

I set my hand on Erik’s arm. “Which one is your favorite?”

He leans into me slightly. “Their options change quite a bit. I think the one that’s always here is the top one, the pilsner. My favorite right now is the brown ale. There’s a hint of coffee, but it’s also a bit chocolatey. It’s a dark beer, but it’s not heavy.”

“I think I’ll try that.”

“Do you like beer? I’m sorry, Maddie. I didn’t even ask before we came here.”

“I like one every now and then. I prefer bourbon, but I’ve never turned down a nice, cold beer with a handsome gentleman.”

“Bourbon?” Erik asks.

My mind floods with wonderful memories highlighted by bourbon drinks. Mint Juleps at the Kentucky Derby—a yearly tradition with my family and friends. Daddy handing me an Old Fashioned in a highball glass to celebrate my promotion to Vice President of Feminine Apparel and Cosmetics at Commons. Countless batches of Mississippi Punch with my friends and debs over the years. In those moments, I felt on top of the world. I had everything: a successful career, the most loyal and loving friends and family, and a seemingly bright future with Trent.

The thought of Trent mars the memories and I push them out of my mind.

“Why do you sound so surprised, Erik? You were raised right here in the South.”

He grins. “I was, but my grandparents are from Chicago originally. Southern traditions elude me.”

“Well, you’re officially dating a Southern belle. So, you best get used to the tradition. You’ll need to know me inside and out if we’re to get married in six months.” I nudge his arm with my shoulder.

“Yeah, Maddie, about that.” He turns so we’re facing each other. “It was a silly idea. You could get in a lot of trouble and I don’t want to put you in that position.”

“I’m not going to get into trouble, Erik. It won’t go that far. We just make it look real until we come up with a plan to keep you here. Heck, by then, laws may have changed. You never know in these crazy times. Seems like things are changing every day.”

He stiffens. “I couldn’t live with myself if you got in trouble.”

“Sugar, this is not your decision. It’s mine. I’m not doing anything illegal right now. We have an arrangement that suits both of us. You are helping me get away from Trent, and I’m helping you stay in the country. Easy peasy.” I wave my hand as if the entire situation is light and easy. It’s not. The fear of what Trent might do next is at the front of my mind. “You better start acting smitten with me if we want anyone to believe this.”

“I won’t have any trouble acting smitten with you.” His lips slide into an irresistible smile. “Can you say the same?”

I push my hair behind my shoulder and stand up straight. “I’m a good actress. I starred in the Christmas pageant twice.”

“You landed the Virgin Mary role twice? That’s impressive.”

“Are you some kind of heathen?” I stare at him. Maybe he’s not religious. I never even asked. That would certainly be a hiccup in the plan. Not a deal breaker, but—

What in the world am I thinking? It’s all fake. I don’t have to worry about taking him to church on Sunday.

“Everyone knows the Virgin Mary isn’t the star. I played the Baby Jesus right up until I grew out of that manger,” I say, turning back to the beer list. “I was a tiny thing.” I can feel Erik staring at me. “What?”

“You are something else, Madeline Commons.”

“You’re just realizing that now? After all these years?”

“You’re serious about our arrangement?”

“As a heart attack.”

When Paul returns, I ask for a sample of both the brown ale Erik mentioned and the amber ale I watched him pour. After tasting, we both decide on a full pint of the brown.

Erik follows me back outside to the front porch. Fall is closing in, and though it’ll stay warm well into October, I relish every minute I get to be outside. Lots of people complain about the heat and humidity, but summer in the South is my favorite time of year.

I set my beer and pocketbook down on one of the rustic, red picnic tables.

The chatter around us calms my mind. I can totally see coming up here with friends. With the exception of four years in Savannah for college and two summer internships in New York and London, I’ve lived in Charlotte my entire life. I’m familiar with many of the different neighborhoods, but this one isn’t an area I usually hang out in. It’s got a great laidback vibe. Not pretentious or trendy. It’s actually relaxing—which is what I needed after the intense conversation with Trent.

There’s a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me things are not over with Trent. I don’t want to be with him, but I know he won’t let our relationship go that easily—and neither will our families. I already committed one of the biggest crimes I possibly could—I gave up on someone. If I’ve learned anything in my family, it’s to be loyal. We work out our differences with the people we have relationships with—personal and business. You don’t just cut someone off.

We were supposed to get married. He hadn’t proposed yet, but that was the unspoken plan. Everyone thought our future union was a sure thing. It was only a matter of time after he got back from Georgetown before he proposed.

No one will understand why I broke up with Trent. Which is my fault for keeping things secret. But that’s the other part of being loyal. I had to keep his behavior under wraps. If I said anything, I’d be accused of trying to smear his reputation.

Mama’s gonna be pissed. So unbelievably pissed.

“To our unconventional arrangement.” Erik raises his glass, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I grab my glass and lift it, clinking. “Fake it till you make it.”

We both take a sip of our beers. I set my glass down.

“You look absolutely beautiful tonight,” he says.

“Thank you.” I’m not sure if he’s saying it to establish the fake relationship, or if he’s being serious, but either way, it’s sweet and makes me smile. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

“Are you okay?” He reaches across the table and places his hand on top of mine. The touch brings both warmth and comfort. I lift my eyes to his. There’s a crease in his forehead between his eyebrows. This might be an arrangement, but I believe Erik really cares about my well-being. He’s seen Trent’s temper twice now.

“Honestly? I’m still shook up.” I take a deep breath and glance around the patio. I’m not looking for Trent—I’m looking for normal. Like the three people at the table behind Erik, going about their night, chatting happily. Or the group behind me playing a lively round of UNO.

“You can talk to me, Maddie. We may be doing this for very specific reasons, but please know that you can talk to me if you need to.”

I bring my gaze back to him, and give him a half-smile. “Thank you. I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“You don’t have anyone you can confide in?”

“I can’t tell anyone, Erik. My entire life would be ruined if I say anything. Not his—mine. Not that anyone would believe me anyway. They’d brush it off. They’d harass me until I let it go.” I’d seen it before. Hell, I’d been one of the people on the firing squad. Loyalty is fierce and strong. Even if it’s not always correct—or what’s right.

How do I expect anyone to believe me—or stand up for me—if I never did for others? Too woven into the fabric of going along with the masses—of what would serve me and my interests.

Maybe it’s time to go against the grain. Why did it have to take something happening to me before realizing that?

“That’s fucked up, Maddie.”

“Yes, but that’s the way it is.” I rub my finger over a patch on the table where the red paint has chipped away.

“When did you start to realize things with Trent weren’t right?” Erik asks.

“It was slow at first. I’ve known Trent for a long time. His sister, Suzanne, and I are very good friends. We went through debutante together.”

“Excuse me?” Erik interrupts. He leans in and blinks as if trying to hear or understand. “You met how?”

“Suzanne and I came out into society together,” I explain. He tilts his head in confusion. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

He shifts on the bench. “I’ve heard of debutantes and coming out, but I didn’t think it was still a thing.”

“It’s absolutely still a thing! A grand tradition Mama talked about ever since I was a little girl.” I close my eyes at the memory of waltzing the night away with sweaty-handed boys at various parties and my beautiful white dress that cost more than some people’s wedding dresses. When I open them, Erik is smiling at me. I know people who don’t understand, who think it’s silly, but it doesn’t make me think any differently. “I’m the only one of my sisters that came out. I loved it. I met so many vibrant, outgoing ladies. I still have lunch with a few of them once a month.”

“It sounds like you enjoyed it.”

“Absolutely. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I learned so much. Not just about etiquette, dancing, and poise, but also about presenting myself in a strong, confident way. I can hold my own in any situation.”

“I have no doubt.” Erik’s lips slide into a smile. He takes another drink.

“I’m charming the pants right off you now, aren’t I?”

“Hey now! Save that for the second date.”

I laugh. “That’s second-date talk?”

“Well, we can skip straight to marriage if it helps? Colors? Locations?” He winks.

“Slow and steady wins the race.”

“Well, we’ve known each other for over ten years; I’d say we’ve taken it very slow.”

“And look, it’s about to get steady again,” I say. Is that why being with him is so easy—because we already have an established relationship? After seeing each other almost every week during all four years of high school, maybe we’re just picking up where we left off, muddling through the gap years we missed in between.

“Did you meet Trent through Suzanne?” Erik asks, bringing our conversation back.

I nod. “Yes. We knew each other for a while, but we didn’t start dating until we were in college. I’ve always dated guys in my social circle. They all fit the same mold. They all came from money. They were going into majors that would set them up for prestigious careers. They were smart and charming and active in organizations on campus, be it fraternities, political groups, or something else.”

“They wore collared shirts and boat shoes—even to sleep,” Erik interrupts. He’s hiding his smile behind his beer glass, which is still raised to his lips.

“Yes, Erik. They were all Chads. And I’m a Becky.” I laugh, mostly because his description really does fit most guys I’ve dated—or even know. I reckon I fit the stereotype too. My youngest sister calls me Becky—which is a mean term for a self-absorbed rich girl. She said it’s from a nineties rap song.

“You wouldn’t be a Becky,” Erik corrects. “You’d be a Stacy. Stacy’s are the perfect, beautiful, unattainable rich girls, Becky’s are plain.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shit, Maddie! I wasn’t calling you a Stacy or Becky. I was just explaining the difference.”

“I’m fully aware of how some people choose to see me, but I’m completely comfortable with myself, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”

Erik rubs a palm over his jaw. “Let me start that again. You don’t fit into either of those lame stereotypes. You are a smart, strong, sexy, successful woman—Southern woman,” he adds with emphasis.

Heat rushes from my cheeks straight up to my ears. Hearing Erik compliment me is like listening to my favorite song. It makes me smile, and I want to put it on repeat forever.

“Thank you,” I say, “but if we’re talking about Trent—he’s a total Chad.” I laugh. “He had similarities to the other guys, but he was more, um, aggressive, I reckon. He came on strong and that made me feel good—wanted. After our first week of knowing each other, he told me he loved me. It was weird, but also flattering. I don’t know. It sounds so stupid to explain.

Out of all the guys I’ve dated, Trent was the one Mama and Daddy were really pushing me toward. He’s handsome, from a great family, and was on his way to Georgetown Law at the time.” I pause, realizing how shallow all of that sounds, but he checked off all the boxes of what I should’ve been looking for in a future husband.

“It doesn’t sound stupid, Maddie. I’ve heard about the whole ‘ring by spring’ philosophy. I mean, I didn’t think it still happened, but I’ve heard of it.”

The only time I’ve ever heard the term “ring by spring” was from friends who went to Christian colleges, but when I think about it, that describes exactly what many traditional Southern parents want for their daughters—an engagement ring by graduation.

My education route was a bit different, since I chose to go to the Savannah College of Art and Design, which—even though it’s one of the most prestigious art and fashion schools in the South—it wasn’t necessarily the place my parents wanted me to find a husband. They don’t want me with a creative type. Which is why they set me up with Trent, a good old boy majoring in pre-law at Duke. I really can’t mock it, since it’s what I wanted, as well. Trent just isn’t the right person.

My back stiffens and I sit up straighter. “Maybe the idea seems archaic to some, but not me. I am college-educated, hard-working, and active in my community. I’m still a modern woman. But no matter how successful I am in my career, I will always choose to put my family first. It’s part of who I am and the way I was raised. I’m proud of both.”

“I’m not insulting you, Maddie, believe me. I’m not from a traditional Southern family, so it’s an old-fashioned concept to me.”

“Old-fashioned isn’t always bad.”

“I didn’t say it was.” He slides a hand across the picnic table and places it on mine. “I’m not making fun of you. I respect you and your family. We can be different and think differently and still be friends, right?”

My shoulders soften a bit as the tension leaves. “Of course.”

Internally, I’m cursing myself for getting so defensive. Trying to explain to people who don’t understand is something I’ve battled for years. I’m not stupid. I’m not uneducated. I don’t think everyone has to share my core beliefs, but it also doesn’t mean I’ll be mocked for them. Family above all isn’t a bad philosophy.

“When did you start realizing Trent wasn’t as perfect as he seemed?” Erik asks, bringing me back on track.

“He was always complimentary and touchy-feely.” I lift my eyes to Erik. “Thinking back on it now, I should have seen early signs, no matter how subtle. I thought he was being complimentary when he’d say he loved how I looked in a certain color or when my hair was styled a particular way. Because we attended different schools, I went on with my life and did my own thing, not thinking too much about Trent’s preferences. But when I was going to see him, I’d do things that made him happy—because that’s what you do in relationships, right? You think about the other person and do the little things that make them happy. He loved when I wore my navy pencil skirt and had my hair tied back in a chic, loose chignon. It was easy enough for me.”

Erik nods as if he understands what I’m talking about.

“I didn’t realize until about a year into our long-distance relationship, that when he appreciated something about my appearance, it wasn’t a compliment as much as a command.”

“His comments weren’t about being sweet, they were about control,” he says.

“Exactly!” I say. Knowing Erik understands makes me think it wasn’t all in my head, which is what Trent wanted me to believe. “There’s so much that I see now, that I didn’t see when I was in the relationship. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Erik says. “That happens to everyone. It seems minor, but what Trent was doing was major. That’s the thing about people who are good at manipulating. They make you feel like you’re the one who needs to change. They make you think you’re the one who has issues when really they’re projecting their issues onto you.”

“Wow. Sounds like you really get it.”

“I’ve been in a few relationships.” Erik winks. “I’ve gotta use the restroom. Be right back.”

I know he’s had girlfriends. I’m not naive. I also know we’re only here together because he’s helping me get out of my old relationship, and I’m helping him stay in the country, but hearing him talk about other relationships sends a ridiculous jealous twinge to my heart. And I’m not a jealous person. At least, I didn’t think I was.

All this crap with Trent really has me out of sorts. I know making the decision to leave is the right choice, but I’m already at one of the lowest points in my life, and I don’t really want to hear about any other girls that my long-time crush has been with.

After Erik excuses himself, crazy thoughts start to race around my head. What if Trent has been watching us from the parking lot? What if he saw Erik go inside and uses the opportunity to confront me now that I’m alone?

Goose bumps break out across my arms. I roll my shoulders back and clasp my hands in my lap. Then I scan the patio, trying to look nonchalant as I check out the people occupying the other picnic tables.

At the table next to ours, the conversation two Americans are having, with a guy from New Zealand, is both entertaining and enlightening.

“Have you ever had a BLT? A bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich?” the lady asks.

I almost laugh, because it seems like such a silly question. Then I realize, though I’ve traveled quite a bit, I’ve never been to New Zealand. Different countries and regions have their own types of cuisine. What seems common to us, may be completely unheard of to someone from another country.

I lean their way slightly to hear the answer.

He responds with, “Um, yeah. Bacon sandwiches are quite common where I’m from.”

I straighten up in my seat. Mama always told me I should learn something new every day. I’m fairly certain this wasn’t what she meant, but knowledge is knowledge.

And it took my mind off Trent for a minute. That alone was reason enough to appreciate it.

I thought the knot in my stomach would subside when Erik returned to the table, but it’s still there. As he throws a leg over the bench, he flashes me a smile. That’s when I realize the knot isn’t fear, like it was walking to the brewery, but excitement. Being with Erik brings back all those innocent emotions of years ago, when I was just a girl with a huge crush on a boy.

And now we’re on a date.

It’s fake. But for some reason, my mind refuses to allow that minor detail to stop my body from having all the feels. The butterflies that started in my stomach have moved south. Lust zings through my limbs and settles with a pulse between my legs. Just being around him turns me on.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Nothing. Why?” My answer comes out in a rush.

Am I blushing? I brush my fingers across my cheek to see if it’s warm.

“You have this cute little smile on your face. Just wondering what put it there.” He lifts his beer and takes a swig.

I watch every move, taking in details I’ve never had a chance to before. The way his long fingers grip the pint glass. The way his tongue touches the rounded lip of the glass as he drinks. The way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

How can he be so mean? Sitting there, minding his own business, looking so incredibly sexy as he does normal things like drink his beer.

“There was a conversation about bacon. I love bacon.”

I love bacon? I’m sitting across from the sexiest man alive and all I can say is I love bacon?

I take a pull of my own beer, trying to wash down the embarrassment.

“Noted. Should I make you some tomorrow morning?”

I swallow fast, surprised by his bold question. Thankfully, the liquid doesn’t go down the wrong pipe and make me a coughing mess in front of him and everyone else. “Excuse me?”

“I’m totally crashing at your place tonight. The least I can do is make you breakfast.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. My heart slams under my ribcage. “What are you talking about?” My voice is a gravelly mix of lust and thinly veiled outrage.

“I’m absolutely not letting you go home alone. I have this weird vibe that Trent might be there,” Erik says without a hint of flirtation. He’s all business. “You could come to my place if you want. I’m just up the road.”

“Oh. Yeah, I-I didn’t think about that.” I nod. The butterflies exit stage door left and fly out into the night. “It’s definitely not a good idea for me be alone tonight. But, I mean, I can go to Liz’s.” I reach into my pocketbook and dig around for my phone.

Erik’s arm snakes out and he places his hand on my forearm. “We need to make this relationship look real. You said it yourself.”

“I know. But you can just hold your horses there, because I’m not the kind of girl who goes home with a man on the first date. No matter how long we’ve known each other. I’ll stay with Liz or go to my parents’ house.”

The white lights, draping the branches of the potted tree next to our table, flicker, making it look as if his hazel eyes sparkle. But men only sparkle in paranormal fiction, not real life.

His shoulders drop and he removes his hand from my arm, leaving the skin cold where warmth once pulsed. “Okay. As long as you’re not going home alone. That’s all I care about.”

I swallow back my pride. It’s fake. It’s all fake. Why do I keep getting my hopes up? Why would I ever think Erik wants more than the agreement we’ve established to help each other? He’s had years to make a move or ask me out.

I’m such an idiot.

It shouldn’t be this easy for me to fall back into the childish drama of a boy-crazed teenager. Time to put these ridiculous feelings aside and focus on the reason we’re both doing this. Erik’s entire focus is keeping me safe, and I appreciate that. In turn, I’m going to continue the charade so he can stay here in the U.S.—right where he belongs.

Erik wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to protect me. He followed me to my parents’ house and all the way up their long driveway, then waited until I closed the door behind me before he drove away. I know because I watched him through the window next to the front door, just like I used to do when I was younger.

Once inside, I lean against the door, unable to contain my smile or the tingle of excitement. It’s the seemingly insignificant things—like waiting until I was safe in the house—that make me giddy as a schoolgirl. The few times Trent dropped me off after a date or event, he never waited. He put the pedal of his BMW 6 series to the metal as soon as I shut the passenger door. It annoyed me at the time, but then I got used to it. Funny how something so small makes a such a big difference.

“Madeline, what are you doing here so late?” Mama asks.

My mother is, was, and always will be my role model. She’s smart as a whip, drop-dead gorgeous, and carries herself with class at all times. Even now, in a cozy, black, Cosabella pajama set with her frosted blonde hair, twisted into small spiral buns and pinned against her head. I used to love watching her put them up and take them out. Perfect pin curls every time. It took me awhile to learn, but I finally did.

“Is it okay if I stay here tonight?” I ask, peeling myself off the door. The question is a formality; I know I’m welcome to stay with my parents at any time.

“Of course, sugar.” Mama beckons me over. Once I’m close enough, she reaches out, skimming her hand over the back of my head. “Feels like the bump is gone already.”

I nod. “It’s still a little tender, though.” Just like my nerves—tender, frayed. The physical effects of Trent’s abuse may have faded, but the mental effects are still raw.

“Is something going on Uptown?” Mama asks.

“No, why?” I follow her to the kitchen.

Steam rises from a teacup sitting on the counter. The calming smell of cinnamon wafts through the air when she lifts the string of the tea bag and dips it a few times.

“Why aren’t you staying at your condo tonight?” She rings the remaining water out of the bag by pressing it against a small spoon, then places both on the saucer. She extends the dainty, porcelain cup toward me. “Would you like this one? I can make another.”

“No, thank you.” I shake my head. “Honestly, Mama? I was afraid to go home.”

“Why would you be afraid to go home? What’s wrong?”

“It was an interesting night.” Thankfully, the evening with Erik calmed me down.

“Does this have anything to do with your breakup with Trent?”

I should have known that Mama would already know. It hasn’t even been four hours since it happened. Trent probably called his mama straightaway. Wonder if it was before or after he stormed into Amelia’s?

“Yes. After we spoke, he followed me to a coffee shop, busted through like a wrecking ball, and started calling me a whore in front of God and everyone.”

“Well, I’m not calling the kettle black, Madeline, but what is anyone supposed to think when you were at that coffee shop meeting another man just minutes after breaking up with your long-term boyfriend?” she snaps.

“That’s not fair, Mama. I met up with a friend because I was nervous and upset. It wasn’t a date with another man.”

It wasn’t. Maybe the part where we went to Home on the Range was, but that wasn’t planned.

“Maybe so, but that’s not what it sounds like to anyone else.”

“Instead of talking about what it sounded like through the grapevine, can we address the fact that Trent followed me there and his psychotic outburst? Is there any wonder why I’m afraid to go home right now? He has a key to my condo. He could be there, waiting to do who knows what when I walk in the door.”

“What’s gotten into you, Madeline?”

“Excuse me?” I ask, confused. Mama rarely scolds me. Probably because we see eye-to-eye on most issues. Liz and Emily may have called me, “Mayor Maddie” growing up, but Mama called me “Mini Magnolia,” an offshoot of the nicknames my grandfather on Daddy’s side used to call her—Steel Magnolia—meaning she possessed both femininity and a strong will. I know how cliché it is for a Southern woman to be called a steel magnolia, but I like it. It describes us perfectly.

“Less than a week ago, you and Trent were happier than two pigs in the sun. Suddenly you’re accusing him of horrible things. You’ve even gone so far as to end your relationship. All of this came out of the blue, and I really don’t understand.”

My heart sinks because she’s right. The incident at the pool was frightening and eye-opening, but I haven’t discussed that with anyone, and I kept tight-lipped about Trent’s treatment before that. Liz said she could tell something was off between him and me, but Liz is my sister, my closest friend, and she disliked Trent from the beginning, so I assume she watched with a critical eye. Erik calling me out about the immensity of what Trent did triggered a string of alarming memories—things I can’t push aside anymore.

Because of my silence on the issue, I can’t expect anyone to understand.

“I told you things hadn’t been going well between us for a while, Mama,” I say quietly, treading lightly into the truth. “I just didn’t say anything. It’s not wise to air our dirty laundry for others to see, right?” I know the code of conduct. The details of what goes on are kept within that relationship. What happens behind closed doors is no one else’s business.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but I tried to make it work. I tried my hardest and I lasted as long as I could.”

“As long as you could?” Mama sets her teacup on the saucer. “You’ve haven’t even lived in the same town for a year yet!”

I don’t have the energy to defend my decision any further or argue with her. Especially when I know there’s no winning an argument with Mama. Either she’s right or she makes life hell. “I know it’s disappointing, Mama. I know I’ve let you down. But I’m still young; I’ll find another man to marry.”

At twenty-five, I probably seem like an old maid to her, who married Daddy a few days before her twentieth birthday. Things were different when they were younger. Her mother passed away shortly after she met him. I think that loss made her want to start her own family quickly—to have the family structure back in her life and become a mother herself. But she doesn’t talk about her past, so I can’t say for sure.

Mama scoffs. “I’m not worried about your age, or whether you’ll find another boyfriend, Madeline. I’m concerned about the stores—and how much relies on our relationship with the Andersons. We have how many new sites opening up between this year and next? And Alfred is designing all of them, correct? Maybe we should have had a meeting before you ended things so abruptly with his son.”

A meeting about my love life. Not one of the things I realized I’d be signing up for when I chose to work in the family business.

“Sorry I didn’t reserve the conference room and call you all in before I made a decision about my personal life, Mama.” I roll my eyes.

“Don’t you dare get snippy with me, young lady.” Mama points at me. “You, out of all of my daughters, know how important relationships are. We’re part of a tight-knit circle and word gets around. Whether you like it or not, your decisions—business and personal—affect other people around you. I’m not saying you had to stay with Trent; I’m just asking you to give your Daddy and I a heads-up before you do something so drastic.”

“I did give you a heads-up,” I protest. “I told you I wanted to break up with him.”

“I meant before you actually did it. You blindsided all of us.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t run it by you and Daddy first, Mama. It’s been weighing on me pretty heavily. And, despite what you may think, it wasn’t an easy decision.”

How sad is it that I had to think long and hard about severing ties with a man who has been physically, mentally, and verbally abusive to me for years? I’ve been silent for years so as not to rock the boat. Part of me thought it would be easier to go on with life as I had been, until I remembered how concerned and frightened Erik had looked after he dragged me from the pool.

Finally having someone’s full support gave me the strength to break free.

“Whether it was a difficult decision or not, it’s still something your father and I should have been aware of. We have to do damage control, Madeline. We have to look out for our business interests.”

We’ll go in circles for the rest of the night if I try to get Mama to understand my side—my feelings. It’s all about business and our reputation for her. “I know. I’m sorry, Mama.”

“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a shower?”

I nod. Before I head upstairs, I pause and say, “When I marry someone, I want to be as happy with him as you and Daddy are together. That’s always been my goal. I knew that wouldn’t be the case with Trent Anderson.”

“Good night, Madeline,” Mama dismisses me.

It’s not just me blowing smoke. I’ve always wanted a relationship like the one my parents have. Sure, they argue like any married couple—especially one in business together—but when it comes down to it, they love each other and do right by each other.

But for as much as I love and admire Mama, she has one trait I never want to emulate—how cold she can be.