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“Hi,” I say.

“Luciana.” She closes the distance between us and hugs me.

“How are you, Marilyn?” I ask. After being around Adri and her mom, Victoria, it feels weird to call her by her name, but I can’t bring myself to call the woman who birthed me anything but her name.

“Were you at the gym?” Marilyn asks. “You’re all disheveled.”

There’s never a compliment or just the joy of seeing each other.

I don’t let it ruffle me. “We’re at a spa. I just got a treatment.”

“So did I, but I made sure they did my makeup and hair.”

“I’m not going to be out on the town. I’m driving back to Maryland.”

“You’re a Blake, Luciana, and someone notorious. People look up to you because of your style. You should always represent your brand.”

Does she know about my meeting today?

“Brand?” I ask.

“Isn’t that what influencers are considered? It’s a status thing.”

Jesus. It’s not like I look like shit. I’m wearing Thiccletics, which are the hot item of the moment. My pointy flats were declared the item of the season by New York Flair. She makes it sound like I’m in rags and my hair is scraggly. I’m not going to explain that, though. I just need to get the hell out of here.

My therapist used to try to steel me against this. You can’t make her be the mother you need her to be, so you just need to remove yourself from the situation. She’ll never change…but you have.

“I need to go, Marilyn.” Yes, her name is the appropriate one to use. Always. Because she was never the one that I could run to when I got hurt. I couldn’t tell her about my fears or confide in her. I couldn’t remember her reassuring me, telling me I was smart or brave, or even telling me my interests mattered. Even shopping sprees with Marilyn came with a laundry list of traumas for me to unpack with my therapist years later.

She doesn’t even see my trepidation. She doesn’t see me.

“We haven’t spent any time together. Let’s go grab tea and catch up. Tonight, you can stay at the brownstone with me.”

Only if you shoot me with a horse tranquilizer and tie me down after.

“I’m headed back to Maryland.”

Her lips go flat. “You are spending a lot of time there now.”

“I live there.”

“You’re a fashion and style blogger. You are established here. All my friends and their daughters watch your blogs and read your articles. You can’t abandon the city where you’ve become an icon.”

“I can blog from anywhere. I come often for work…” I trail off, but it’s too late. Shit, I fucked up. I see it in the cold glow in her eyes.

“Yes, you’re here all the time. Yet, you never visit your mother. You never come see if I’m dead or alive.”

Don’t be dramatic or anything.

“I know you’re okay. I talk to Eddha all the time, and we communicate.”

“We text, Luciana. That’s fast communication. I don’t even know what’s going on in your personal life. Mateo can’t be happy that you’re in Maryland all the time.”

I clench my teeth so hard so I can keep my mouth shut. Why does she have to bring him up every time we talk?

“Mateo and I broke up for good this week. We are not getting back together, and that’s final. I’m done letting him make a fool of me.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “You always break up, and you always end up together. He’s a good catch.”