Page 87 of Scandalous Contract

I know those words had been uttered in anger on the day of his car wreck, the same day India was born. But those words stuck with me. And they still treated me as if I should’ve been the one who died, not their son.

So, no, I didn’t like my daughter being around them when I wasn’t present. Yes, I was afraid of the things they might say to her when I wasn’t around. But I promised them that when she turned eighteen, I would no longer require that I be present when they came to see her.

India didn’t know any of this, of course. And they were never to mention anything about her father’s accident to her. I know she’d asked them before. But there was a story, and they were all sticking to it, like I’d ask, and they’d continue to stick to it if they wanted me to continue helping them out financially.

“Did you hear me, ma?” India asked.

“Sorry I couldn’t hear you, sweetie.”

“I see you got flowers. They were from Hudson, right?” she asked, being nosy.

Hell no!“No. They were from the florist. You know she and I are friends.”

I hated to lie, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t say, ‘No, they’re from your roommate's brother.’

“Oh. Well, dang. I’d hoped Hudson had gotten you flowers. Last time I was home, he asked me what kind of flowers you liked. I told him you loved peonies, and he brought you roses instead. He doesn’t listen.”

“No, he brought me what he wanted to buy me because what I like doesn’t matter to him,” I told her.

“But...”

“No, buts, Indie. Hudson and I are just co-workers. That’s it. Stop trying to play matchmaker.”

“But he likes you and...”

“Indi!” I said more forcefully.

She paused. The silence stretched, and I knew my tone had hurt her feelings.

A sigh drifted across the line before she whispered, “I’m going to study some before bed. I’ll call you later, Ma.”

I closed my eyes. I hated snapping at her, but she really had to let go of this idea that Hudson was the right man for me.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“Because you yelled at me?”

“I didn’t yell. But I was snappy. I’m sorry. But please let this thing about me and Hudson go. Indi, I really don’t like him that way. The guy I date should be someone I like and want in my life. Right?”

She hesitated before saying, “Right.”

“Thank you for wanting me to be happy, love. I promise I’m working hard in that department. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. I thought Hudson was good because you have the news station in common, and he’s always been there and stuff. But if you really don’t like him, then you shouldn’t be with him. I’ll keep looking for a great guy for you.”

Please don’t!

“I love you, sweetie,” I whispered. “Goodnight.”

“Love you too. Goodnight.”

The call ended. I sighed deeply. I know she said she’d give up on this Hudson thing, but I knew she wouldn’t. Once my daughter made up her mind about something, it took a lot for her to change it. This one conversation wasn’t going to convince her that I didn’t like Hudson.

It was my fault. I’d let him into our lives as a friend while knowing he’d wanted more. I shouldn’t have done that. And then I caved and tried to give him a chance, which only made our status murkier to India. That was on me.