“Do you… Again, I have no right to ask this. I won’t judge you no matter what you say.” She waits patiently while I summon up my courage. “Do you think you can ever forgive me for what I did?”
The last person in the world who should ask for forgiveness is someone who wasn’t able to give it when the roles were reversed.
She blows out a breath, but then she reaches over and squeezes my elbow, a motion that means something, though I’m not sure what.
“I already did, Wren. All I ever wanted was for Angel to have the love I never felt. I wanted to be enough for her, but I wasn’t. She wanted a father and a mother. Just like most kids. A lot of children never get that. The day you made her dreams come true, I forgave you—even though I didn’t realize it at first. Because she’s my heart—she controls it. And she loves you.”
Shivers run up and down me, because tears are pricking my eyes. She just gave me something of myself that I didn’t know was even missing.
Her phone rings, which fortunately kills some of the heavy air, and she pulls it out of her pocket.
“Ms. Prize,” she says by way of greeting my mother. Then she grins shyly. “Sorry, Melanie, I mean… Umm…” Her voice trails off as she looks at me, and then she looks back front. “I’m with him right now… No, it’s my day… Oh. Well, sure. I think Angel would really like that… Okay… You, too.”
She hangs up, and I tilt my head curiously. “Is my mother hassling you about anything I should talk to her about?” I ask, worried. Mom is nosy and meddling by nature, and I usually allow it, but I’ll—
“No. She was asking if I had talked to you because she tried calling and you didn’t answer.”
I glance at my phone to see one missed call from her and roll my eyes. I forgot I put the ringer on silent when I went in to speak to Tag.
“Silent,” I say, shaking my phone.
“She wanted to know if she could pick Angel up from school and take her dress shopping for the party. She also wants to pick her up early the day of the party. She said she’d love to get her ready if I was okay with that. She mentioned hairstylists, makeup artists, and something about princess treatment, so obviously I said yes. It’ll make Angel’s night.”
Yeah, my stupid grin forms because she’s right about Angel loving that. Girl is high maintenance, I’ve learned. I’m not sure where she gets it from, because it’s certainly not Allie. Well, not in the material sense of the meaning. She’s high maintenance under the surface.
Oh shit. I can’t believe I didn’t think about that sooner…
Going with my hunch, I turn left instead of right.
“Where are we going?” she asks the second I veer from the course of Rye’s house.
“To get you a dress for the party.”
She smiles and blushes, but shakes her head. Just as I knew she would. This time, I’m taking the decision out of her hands.
“I’ve got a dress. I’ve only worn it once to Bella’s cousin’s wedding. I’m good.”
It’s really hard not to grin at how sweet and naïve she is in this moment. Especially since moments like these are rare with her.
“You need a dress,” I say again, heading toward my uncle’s biggest store in town. His couture line is what we need—not the standard line. She’s going to be in a one of a kind, and he only keeps those sorts of dresses at his most prominent location. Fortunately for me, I don’t need an appointment to get in like the general public.
“Wren, it’s sweet, but I seriously have a dress. I wouldn’t wear something that would embarrass you or your mother.”
I can’t help but grin this time. “You wouldn’t embarrass me if you showed up as you are now, but I want you to enjoy your night. And I have a feeling you won’t enjoy it if you’re wearing what you’re thinking of wearing because you’ll be self-conscious all night.”
She frowns, and I look back ahead.
“I don’t need a fancy dress to feel good about myself, just so you know.”
I laugh while shaking my head. “Didn’t say you did, but no one wants to show up to something unprepared.”
She rolls her eyes, but I hand her my phone. “Pull up Sterling Shore Christmas on the web. Parties are hosted all over this time of year, but the big one—the one my mother is holding this weekend—goes from house to house. Someone at the top hosts it every year, and it’s her turn.”
With a begrudged acceptance, she does so. I know the second she finds it because her eyes go wide in shock and her mouth falls open as a small breath escapes her.