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feud with the Binghams, that’s for sure.’
‘The fondness in your voice tells me he’s not all bad.’
She shrugged. ‘I tolerate him, probably because I hardly see him.’
It was more than that and we both knew it, but I let it slide. We stepped out and I walked her to the red-painted front door decorated with garlands and Christmas lights. As we approached, sounds of
festive music filtered through the air.
‘You brought me to a party?’ There was no disappointment, but neither was there anticipation. She
was guarding her feelings and I couldn’t blame her.
The door opened before I could knock, a woman of slim, tall build throwing her arms wide.
‘Jensen! You made it.’ Her wide smile didn’t cover the wariness I glimpsed in her eyes but the tight band that usually gripped my chest when I was in my mother’s company had loosened. Enough that I
could return her smile.
Beside me, Graciela tensed. I tightened my fingers around hers, infusing reassurance. ‘Mor, meet
Graciela Mortimer. Graciela, my mother, Agnetha.’
Graciela held out her hand, but her face remained politely neutral as she greeted my mother. ‘It’s
lovely to meet you.’
My mother’s smile widened. ‘You too. I was thrilled when Jensen said he was coming home and
bringing a guest with him. Usually I have to beg and plead.’ She threw the door wide open. ‘Come in, meet the rest of the family!’
As we entered, I slanted a glance at Graciela, gauging her reaction.
Her face gave nothing away, not even when the rest of my family descended en masse. Not when
Dag, my gregarious stepfather, enfolded her in an embrace. She remained coolly polite, upper-class
and boarding-school-honed manners fully in place.
Dread slithered down my spine; the notion that my plan had backfired, that I’d probably killed any
chance I had with her, became a reality when she cornered me in a quiet alcove while pre-dinner
drinks were being served.
‘I was right, wasn’t I? I’m just some guinea-pig experiment to you!’ she hissed with quiet fury.
Frustration boiled inside me. ‘Only you would see it like this.’
Her face tightened. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Look around you, Graciela. We’re not perfect. Hell, some of us have been through a lot of shit. But we don’t wallow in it.’
I knew the words coming out of my mouth were wrong the moment I said them. ‘Dammit, I didn’t
mean it like that.’
Pain dulled the fire in her eyes. ‘No, I think you meant it exactly like that. You either meant to show me what a fuck-up I am or to rub my face in your idea of happy families,’ she said.