OLIVIA
I broughtmy glass to my lips, sipping tequila on the rocks and sitting on the porch swing, as the last of the mourners left. Lukas and Duke were in the house, cleaning up while Charlie and Harper ran around the yard. They’d been playing tag for the last thirty minutes without showing the faintest hint of slowing down.
God, what I’d do to have even an ounce of their energy right now. Maybe then my life wouldn’t feel like I was getting crushed beneath the weight of everyone else’s fucking expectations.
I’d spent every day since my uncle’s passing doing everything but dealing with my grief surrounding his death. If I wasn’t in meetings, I was planning his funeral. And if I wasn’t planning his funeral, I was answering emails. And when I wasn’t answering emails, I was funneling what little energy I had remaining into raising my daughter. Then I went to sleep and started everything over again.
When I woke up today, I mistakenly assumed those expectations would end. There would be no meetings. No bullshitschmoozing. No false pretenses. Just people coming together to mourn the life of a great man. One fucking day of silence.
How wrong I was.
Though I made it through the funeral and burial unscathed, I couldn’t say the same about his celebration. From the moment Duke and I showed up, I was not only swarmed by members of the board but also slimy pricks like Edward Montgomery, whose only interest was growing their portfolio in our time of despair.
From the moment he cornered me this afternoon, I’d been searching for someone—anyone—to save me from his over-the-top compliments and praise for not only John’s work, but mine as well. Unfortunately for Mr. Montgomery, my uncle ensured I knew about the particularly nasty vultures who would use his death as an opportunity to sink their claws into a piece of the Hart legacy. He was at the top of the list of people not to work with, so he’d wasted all his time and energy coming out here and kissing my ass for nothing.
Small mercies, and all.
The screen door swung open, drawing my attention as my mother stumbled out into the fresh, pine-laced air. She didn’t say anything, just removed her pack of cigarettes from her pocket and pulled one from the carton. The stench of smoke filled the space with her first puff and she sank onto the swing next to me.
Despite us being in close proximity all day, it hadn’t been difficult to ignore her. She kept to herself for most of the day, sneaking off to sip from the flask she always kept on hand. The rest of the time, I’d been too busy in conversation to pay her any mind.
But now that the mourners were gone and there were no bullshit business transactions to take care of, I was forced to succumb to her presence.
“She looks just like you, you know,” my mother said, breaking the silence.
I hummed, not sure how to respond. If you looked at pictures of me when I was Charlie’s age, we were almost indistinguishable. Same long blonde hair. Same wide smile. The only difference was our eye color.
Thank god she took after her daddy on that one.
“Your father would’ve loved her.”
I let my head fall back against the swing. “He would’ve.”
She took another drag from her cigarette. “I would’ve loved her too, if you had let me.”
There it was. The comment I’d been waiting for since she sat down. She had an uncanny ability to find the tiniest crack in my armor and blow it wide open. “How long have you been waiting to use that line?” I asked, tapping my fingers along the glass.
“It’s not a line, Olivia. It’s the truth. Your little tantrum has gone on long enough, don’t you think? How long can you reasonably expect me to keep my distance from my own granddaughter?” She turned to face me, but I refused to look at her. “My own daughter?”
I took another sip. The burn of the liquor was nothing compared to the pain of the conversation. I knew where it was headed. It was the same one we had every time she managed to corner me. Only this time, John wasn’t here to step in and comfort me like he always had.
“Maybe you should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before you called me a selfish bitch who only thought about myself,” I said, managing to keep my voice level. “Maybe then you’d still have access to the people you claim to love.”
My mother gasped loudly, and I rolled my eyes. Her dramatics knew no bounds. At least she’d waited for everyone to leave before she began kicking off. I could only imagine thereaction people would have if they saw the way we interacted with one another. She would undoubtedly play the victim, blaming my cruel ways for our distance.
Finally, I turned to face her. It was the first time I’d truly taken her in. The face I used to know and love, the one full of youthful radiance and beauty, had grown weathered. Whether it was the alcohol or the cigarettes or her general disdain for her own wellbeing, I couldn’t be sure. She was almost unrecognizable. If I passed her on the street, I wouldn’t have known her face. The only feature my soul knew was the precise shade of her eyes because they matched mine.
“You think I don’t love you?” she asked before breaking out into a coughing fit. “I said what I said because I don’t want to see you squandering this family’s legacy, not because I don’t love you. Honestly, Olivia. You’re painting me to be the bad guy here.”
“Because you are,” I said earnestly. “My god, Mother. Are you so narcissistic that you can’t see that? I see the years of silence have taught you nothing.”
“If that were true, your brother would have nothing to do with me, and yet here I am, staying in the same house I raised you both in, while you have refused to step foot inside until you were forced to today. I have tried multiple times to talk to you, but you’ve ignored me every time. You’ve gone as far as to block my number. How am I supposed to fix a relationship when the other person is so disinterested in doing so?”
“Our relationship isn’t something that can be fixed with a conversation. Especially when you refuse to take responsibility for the hurt you caused.”
“Is that what you want?” she asked with a huff. “An apology? That’s rich, Olivia. I’m sorry I tried to help you. I’m sorry, I wanted what was best for not only you, but also your daughter. I’m sorry?—”
That was it. My threshold for bullshit had been hit, especially when she brought Charlie into the mix. I stood up from the swing, turning on her in a red haze. “You don’t give a shit about my daughter or me. You’re worried about yourself, about the monthly allowance Dad set up for you in the event that anything happened to him. An allowance, might I add, that was meant to be used to raise the two children you had and not to drown yourself in expensive liquor and cigarettes.” I flicked my gaze down her body, stopping where I knew the flask was hidden inside her jacket. “If it weren’t for Uncle John, who knows what would’ve happened to me. You certainly didn’t give a shit if I made it out of the hell I was living in.”