There’s just me and her.
Cecily Knight is the calm in a loud, chaotic world.
A glittery look covers her eyes, and I think she’ll fall asleep, but she lifts her head and brushes her lips against mine, softly, slowly, as if it’s the first time she’s done it.
“I’m going to miss you when I’m in London.” Her drunken voice floats around me like a gentle breeze.
And then she closes her eyes, and her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.
I remain frozen in place for what seems like an hour.
Fuck me.
How can a mere chaste kiss and those words affect me this much?
Looks like I won’t let her do this, after all.
35
CECILY
My attempts to stop the dull ache in my chest have been an utter failure.
I still try to enjoy my visit home in peace, though. Or as much peace as there can be, considering the circumstances.
Mum and I are preparing dinner together, something we’ve done since I was a child. Uncle Kirian—my mother’s younger brother—would usually join us, but he’s traveling. Hopefully, I’ll be able to see him before I go back to school.
I’m sitting at the prep table while Mum is behind me, stirring ingredients on the stove.
“Pass me the salt, sweet pea,” she says, distracted.
Her hair is pulled up in a messy chignon with green highlights peeking out from everywhere. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s always had some green in her hair. Sometimes, it’s fully green. Other times, like now, it’s brown with green streaks.
She’s wearing a knee-length floral dress, and, you guessed it, a green apron.
Papa remodeled the kitchen into a chef’s dream when I was a toddler. It’s full of stainless-steel equipment, a large food-prep area, and it’s green-themed like Mum.
This is where I’ve often dabbled in internet recipes with Mum while Papa joins in just to annoy us, makes a mess out of the kitchen, and then stays to watch with a massive grin on his face.
The only reason he’s not doing that right now is because Mum sent him to get us a few things we’re missing.
I place the salt cellar in her hand, and she starts to put some in, then stops. “Cecy, hon, this is pepper.”
“Bollocks. Sorry.” I snap out of it and give her the appropriate cellar.
She shakes her head with a smile and adds the salt as I sit down again and get busy chopping the vegetables. I’m thankful she’s busy and can’t see my expression that I’m sure would give me away.
Mum always makes sure we do mother-daughter activities together. We cook, do yoga, watch movies, and shop. Though I’m not a big fan of the latter. She also plays the perfect role of my solicitor whenever Papa kicks up the overprotectiveness a notch and forbids me from doing things because they’re ‘dangerous’ for me.
It means a lot to me that we’ve always been so close, but not when she can read me. I really hate that part.
“Is everything okay back there?” she asks, glancing at me over her shoulder.
“Grand, yeah.”
“Is there anything you want to tell me, hon?”
“What? No, of course not.” I certainly don’t want to tell her about a certain guy who’s flipping my world upside down while I’m along for the ride.