“Never,” I said dryly but sent my laptop a guilty glance. “I do work hard. I can’t deny that, but I’ve struck a balance, I think.”
“Good,” she said gently. “Are you happy, Jacque?”
The question caught me off guard, but as I stared at the cars crawling along the street below, I found myself smiling again. “Yes, I am. Or at least, I think I could be.”
“That sounds like a maybe.”
“It’s a work in progress,” I admitted. “Progress is, however, being made, so that’s good, right?”
She hummed thoughtfully. “Is anyone helping with that progress, then?”
I let out a soft, surprised breath that she’d guessed it so fast. My gaze drifted back to the bedroom as I thought about theprogressI’d made only in the last fourteen hours or so. “Actually, yes. I met someone. It’s nothing serious, but it’s good.”
“Oh?”
I smiled to myself. “He’s a lot, but I like him.”
“A lot good or a lot of trouble?”
I chuckled. “Both, probably.”
“That sounds about right for you,” she teased. “I suppose I wouldn’t know him, but what’s he like? What’s his name?”
My grip on the phone tightened slightly. “Do you remember Jesse Westwood? We met him at the Roderick Estate months ago, before I moved.”
As soon as I mentioned his name, she got really, really quiet and I immediately regretted opening my mouth, but the cat was out of the bag now anyhow. “Mom?”
I could practicallyhearher pinching the bridge of her nose as she sighed. “Is that really who you’re seeing? Of all the people in the world, you choose a Westwood?”
I winced. “I know, but it’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m serious,” she pressed, cutting over me with her voice tightening so much that it put me on edge as well. “I’ve made my peace with what happened, but some of those people are not to be trusted.”
“You mean how the family treated you differently after you were adopted?” I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to block out the pain that always came with those particular memories even of my own childhood. “Yes, Mom. I know.”
“They didn’t just treat us differently, darling. I didn’t fit their idea of what a Westwood should be and neither did you.”
“I know, Mom, but Jesse isn’t like that.”
“You’ve been there for two minutes, Jacqueline. It’s impossible to know what he’s really like so fast.”
“He’s not like your uncles and their families. The Chicago Westwoods just aren’t the same. They’ve been nothing but nice so far.”
“Nice doesn’t mean anything,” she retorted. “Not with them. Those people will hurt you, given the chance.”
Sighing, I stared out at the skyline again and watched my faint reflection in the glass for a beat before I shook my head. “You haven’t even met them, Mom.”
“I don’t need to.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Jacque, listen to me,” she said gently. “All the Westwoods care about is legacy, reputation, and image. If you don’t fit their mold, you’re out. That’s how it’s always been and how it always will be. Save yourself the heartache. Trust me.”
I swallowed hard, an uncomfortable weight settling in my chest as her words sank in, but she wasn’t even done yet. “Blood is thicker than wateris practically their motto and even then, sometimes, that’s not enough.”
“Mom—”
“No, Jacque. Listen to me. I’m trying to protect you. My dad’s brothers turned him into the black sheep of the family, a laughingstock, over something neither he nor my mother could control. They struggled to conceive. So what? They still had a baby. Me. And you know how dearly they loved us all, but the rest of the Westwood clan? They never accepted me or you. It won’t be any different now.”