Page 50 of Catch Me (Townsend Legacy #4)

“So, I was the solution to your trouble? ”

“It was the most logical solution,” my mother says. “Gloria was completely incapable of taking care of a child responsibly. Not with her silly dreams of wanting to work on Broadway. How was she going to afford a baby? And it’s what your grandparents wanted as well.

“They would’ve had a terrible time explaining to their church and community why their sixteen-year-old child had a baby of her own. So we stepped up and took you in. We made sacrifices for you.”

Her tone makes me cringe.

“And you made me pay for them in every way you could think of, didn’t you?”

Her mouth slackens, shock invading her expression.

“Not one day went by that you let me forget that I owed you a debt even if you never explicitly let me know what the debt was,” I say.

All of the times as a kid I questioned why my parents seemed to resent me more than love me. I tried over and over to figure out what I did wrong.

Turns out it was nothing I did.

They resented me for not being theirs.

“What are you doing here now?” I fold my arms across my chest.

“We heard about your …” my father pauses to clear his throat, “trouble.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry, Ivy,” Mya says, a pleading note in her voice. “They called yesterday, and I just told them you weren’t feeling well. I think they figured out you had another big panic attack.”

“Yes,” my mother intervenes. “Which is why we’re here. I told you this place wasn’t for you. Told you there’s no way you would make it?—”

“You’re pushing it.” Andreas’ voice slices through the air, silencing everyone.

Even Ms. Shelby stops walking past and narrows her eyes in my mother’s direction.

“Yes, I had another panic attack because I have a panic disorder,” I say for the first time out loud to my parents. “It’s bound to happen from time to time, and I’ll be damned if I’m ashamed of it.”

This time it’s me who raises my chin to look both of my parents in their eyes.

“That doesn’t mean I’m weak or in the wrong place.”

Andreas slips a hand behind my back, pulling me closer to him.

“I won’t be returning to Michigan with you. And, in all honesty, I probably won’t be returning at all for a very long time.”

“Ivy—” my mother says.

“I’m going to be busy working and completing my fashion design degree.”

Andreas looks down at me, but I keep my attention on my parents.

“And falling deeper in love with the man who, in six months, has proven to know more about love than either one of you proved in a lifetime.”

Both of their mouths fall open.

“Please don’t come here again without an invitation.”

Mya’s daaaamn is the only sound in the room for almost a full minute. That is, until Andreas walks over to the door, and opens it.

“That’s your cue to leave. Now,” Andreas says firmly.

I watch my parents file out of the apartment without another word. Andreas isn’t shy about slamming the door behind them and locking it.

“It’s about time,” Mya says, pulling me into a hug.

“My …” I strain to say. “I … can’t breathe.” My words come out mumbled because she’s squeezing my face against her so tight.

Laughter spills from me when we pull apart.

“I’m so proud of you.” She wipes a tear from her eye. “I thought …” She trails off.

“I know.” I squeeze her arm. “I just, um, I needed a little bit to snap out of it.”

She nods before moving away as Andreas comes up behind her.

“I’m sorry for checking out like that,” I tell him. I hold up the magazine. “Thank you for this.”

He cups my face. “At least you’re not apologizing for having a panic attack.” His smile widens. “But if you apologize again for taking what you need, I’m going to make it painful for you to sit, baby,” he whispers against my mouth.

“Okay, well, that’s my cue to leave,” Mya says, laughter in her voice.

She hugs me again and then heads out.

“How are you feeling?” Andreas asks sometime later as we eat Thai food, on the couch.

“I’m … I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

We’ve spent the past hour talking out all of the mess that’s been spinning in my head for weeks. I finally confessed about losing my job at InTuition. Which, I then had to climb into his lap to pry his phone out of his hands to keep him from calling the head of the studio and cursing them out.

He only calmed down after I told him that my freelance work was keeping me busy and paid enough so far. And that I already had another interview lined up with a different studio.

“I think it's time I go back to Dr. King again. Regularly, this time.”

He squeezes my knee. “What about your parents? What they said was heavy.”

I push out a breath.

“Honestly, it’s kind of a relief to know.

I think I always suspected it on one level or another.

People would always comment on how much Aunt Gloria and I looked alike whenever she was in town.

The way she was closer to me than Rose or Stephen.

Not to mention, I often wondered why I felt so distant from my parents, like they resented me.

As a kid, I didn’t have words for what I felt, but now I do.

“It’ll take a while to process it all and figure out if and what type of relationship I want to have with either of them moving forward.”

I shrug.

Adreas leans in and kisses me on the lips. “You know I’m always here. And my family is your family,” he says

“I love you.”

“Love you,” he replies before asking. “Were you serious about finishing your degree?”

I nod fervently. “Dead serious.” I look over at Diana Ross’ stunning face staring back at me from the coffee table. “I want to finish what I started. I’ve already found a program here in L.A. that my school in New York will accept as the remaining courses I need to complete my degree.”

“That’s great, baby.”

“Thank you,” I tell him. “And I know you’re going to be pissed at me for saying this, but I do hate that you had to leave your premiere party early.”

“Yup.” He places his plate on the table followed by mine. “I knew you were going to go there. Let’s go.”

I yelp as he picks me up from the couch.

“What are you doing?” I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I told you what would happen if you apologized again.”

“I didn’t even apologize,” I protest.

“Yeah, you tried to sneak it in there with a fake non-apology apology. I’m not falling for that shit,” he growls as he plops me on my bed.

“This is going to hurt me way more than it hurts you, baby,” he warns before the first smack of his hand lands against my ass.