Her answer surprised me. She turned halfway to look at me, but still had one foot out the door. It was so hard to tell if she was being sincere or if this was just some really good acting. Her mother was the best actress of them all. I had believed Jillian really loved me at one point. But sooner or later everyone shows their true colors.
“I’m sorry you felt overlooked. I—”
The horn of the Uber honked, interrupting me. Katherine glanced into the night, then turned back to me. My heart tore right down the middle. I may have just blown any opportunity I even had to find out if she was sincere or just like her mother because I made assumptions.
“Bye, Victor.”
Before she could escape, I grabbed her wrist, and moved to her as I pulled her back to me. Something about that intimate moment we’d shared just after sex had spoken to me. She felt right in my arms. I wanted to feel that again.
“Not goodbye, just see you later.”
Her eyes popped up to mine. It was something I had told her a million times back in the day. Never say goodbye unless you mean it. See you later meant you were coming back, and I had no fucking clue why I was saying that now, but I had said it. It was too late to take it back.
“Yeah?” Her eyes searched my face, and I met her lips with mine briefly.
“Yeah.” I let her go and she stepped out onto the porch to the sound of the horn honking again. “We’ll have more nights like this.”
Nothing could ever compare to the feeling I got when a smile graced her face before she turned and left. Nothing except the suffocating feeling of my gut being kicked in by the memory of her mother tearing my heart out.
I retreated to my den, leaving the mess in the kitchen for the maid to handle tomorrow morning, and poured myself a drink. If Jillian Scott was returning to my world, at least it was in the periphery and not as a player. Katherine was young, fresh, arousing, but I had no way of proving whether she was like her mother or something else entirely.
But I had to find out.
8
KAT
The audience talked loudly, filling the auditorium with such a ruckus it made having a normal conversation difficult. I followed Taylor and Zina backstage to the wings where we could speak more comfortably and was surprised to see my mother standing with her jacket draped over her folded hands, a severe look on her face.
“Mom?” I hesitated, Zina and Taylor pausing as Mom walked up.
“Dear, that was fabulous as always.” Her perfume overpowered me as she strolled up to me to offer her usual air-kiss to each cheek. Taylor raised an eyebrow and Zina smiled.
“Mom, this is the conductor, Zina Patel, and my chair partner, Taylor.” I gestured their direction, and they made their introductions.
“It was a lovely show, Ms. Patel.” Mom shook hands with Zina and then took a step back. She never came to my performances before, so I wondered what was going on to inspire her to visit without any notice. She didn’t have a man on her arm, despite being in her fourth marriage.
“Thanks, Mrs. Scott.” Zina’s polite greeting soured Mom’s expression as if she’d bitten into a lemon peel.
“That’s Mrs. Scott-Baxter, thank you.” I sighed, hoping the ladies understood that my mother’s rudeness was not my own and should not be a reflection on my upbringing or manners.
“Apologies, Mrs. Scott-Baxter,” Zina placated, folding her hands in front of herself.
“We were just about to ask Katherine how her date the other night went.” Taylor waggled her eyebrows and I scowled at her, trying to discourage that particular thread of conversation. Zina had become a fast friend of mine, but this was not a topic I felt particularly keen to discuss with Taylor—or my mother for that matter.
If it got out that the person, I was dating was Victor Beringher, Mom would flip out. “Boring details, ladies. No one needs to hear about that.” I hooked my arm around Mom’s and offered Taylor a look to discourage her, but she insisted on pressing further.
“Nah, he was super-hot, Kath—”
One of the tuba players bumped into Taylor, cutting her off, but Mom got the message anyway. She raised her eyebrows in curiosity and turned to me.
“Oh? You didn’t tell your own mother you’re dating?” Her spindly fingers dug into my arm as the tuba player passed by us, as if she were afraid he’d knock her over.
We waited for a few brass instrumentalists to pass by, and then Zina urged me on with a hand flick. “Tell her what happened. We all want to know.”
There wasn’t a hole close enough or large enough to swallow me whole. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Telling my mother was the last thing I wanted to do. Not only was she hyper judgmental about the guys I dated—Javier never passed muster—but this guy in particular was off limits. And for good reason. Victor and I had spoken several times over the past few days, and we were on a roll. Telling my mom who he was would only ruin everything, and I’d waited for him far too long to let that happen.
“No really. It was nothing. He took me to this Peruvian place and—”