Page 40 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

A Scaly Situation

MADDIE

“ H uey. Dewey. Louie.” As I quietly said each name, I put my fingertip to the tank glass like I was shaking their fins. “A new house? In this economy? Impressive.”

The brightly colored aquarium castle wasn’t the only new addition.

A shimmery fish that I’d never seen before swam out to slam into one of the triplets before quickly retreating into the castle like a coward.

My lips curved down, and I walked through my childhood home toward the kitchen.

With the invitation—that wasn’t really optional—to Old Flame’s premiere, I couldn’t keep procrastinating the conversation with my parents.

I wasn’t sure what kind of coverage there would be in the theater or at the after party, but I was betting it would be a hell of a lot more than any of the other events we’d attended.

For the first time, I hoped we were photographed. The dress that June and I picked out the day before deserved to be memorialized for posterity.

Technically, she’d been the one to pick it out—and continue her streak of impeccable taste.

But unlike the others, the dusty blue tulle dress needed to be hastily altered to fit to perfection.

The appliqued bodice had a see-through mesh strip down the center, giving the illusion that there was nothing there.

But if it gaped even a bit, then that panel might as well be a peepshow.

The same went for the backless portion that dropped to a borderline obscene point right above the swell of my ass. If I hadn’t gotten it shortened, my crack would’ve been out like a plumber stereotype.

Even though it was unlikely we would be in the background of any official photographs, I planned to take as many as the cloud would store to commemorate the experience and to use in my article. That meant I needed to tell my parents who I would be there with.

After I found out who the hell the mean fish was.

“Why is there some squatter…” My words trailed off as I walked in on my parents in a hushed conversation.

Arms crossed, my dad’s shoulders were slumped like the weight of the world was resting entirely on them.

It was jarring since he was usually a stickler about how proper posture is vital for bone aging.

His tie hung loosely around his neck, and he looked like the physical manifestation of the word exhausted.

Mom didn’t look much better. She scowled up at him before quickly masking her displeasure with a smile at me. “If you’re asking about dinner, it’ll be done in a half hour, so I don’t want to hear any dramatics about how you’re wasting away.”

“From me? Never.”

But only because my already anxious stomach is now churning so badly, I doubt I could swallow a bite.

I’d always been close to my parents. They were just the right mix of coddling and strict, giving me room to make my own mistakes while protecting me when they could.

That was why I didn’t expect to get much of an answer when I asked, “Is everything okay?”

They shared a look that was much less annoyed. Instead, it was filled with the usual connection and love that I’d grown up seeing from them. The kind that made it clear that they were each other’s rock.

“Just work, Rad Mad,” Dad said. “I’m getting too old. I think it might be time to hang up the ol’ implants and retire.”

He’d been saying the same thing for as long as I could remember. But there wasn’t the same thread of humor in his voice. And he was definitely in the age range where retirement wasn’t out of the question.

And that was without the addition of the new bags under his eyes.

Maybe risking a surprise discovery is better than adding to his stress.

I’m not a coward.

I’m thoughtful.

A thoughtful coward.

Unfortunately, my evasion decision was made for me when my dad skewered me with a look. “To what do we owe this surprise visit?”

“Can’t a daughter just come home to see you?”

“In the middle of the week?”

“You know Wednesdays are my short day.”

His shoulders loosened slightly. “So, you’re still in school?”

“Yes! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re here to tell us that you’ve dropped out to backpack Europe or to join the circus.”

“I don’t have the dexterity for balloon animals,” I said. “And I’m still committed to journalism and am having a good year. I think my lowest grade is an eighty-seven.”

Wide smiles split both of my parents’ faces, but it was my dad who pointed out, “And you thought this year would be a struggle.”

That was before I knew I would have some extra ambition to get my assignments done early…

“How’s the paper?” he asked, presenting me with a gift-wrapped opening too perfect to decline.

Here goes everything…

“Good. I, uh, am attending a movie premiere in a few days and covering it for The Chronicle.”

His eyes widened, but my mom just looked gleeful.

Too gleeful.

My suspicious gaze was pulled from her when Dad gave a low whistle. “Wow. That’s quite the assignment. Your editor must be loving your work.”

“He is. But it was actually the guy that I’m seeing who arranged the coverage for me. Joel just happily scooped up the feature when I pitched it to him.”

Happily was an understatement. Though he’d initially tried to push for an invite for himself, he’d been a jittery bundle of excitement that his pride-and-joy paper would have a feature guaranteed to garner more than ten views.

Some of Dad’s delight dimmed. Or maybe it was transferred to my mom because her happiness was starting to resemble Joel’s hyperactive energy.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Dad said. “Is he also a journalism major?”

“No. He’s, uh, a lawyer.”

Mom squeaked, but the rest of Dad’s cheerfulness was gone. “Actually a lawyer or in law school?”

Oh hell.

“Actually a lawyer. He has his own firm. Wells Law.”

“You’re dating a man who’s old enough to have his own damn law firm?”

“Howard—” Mom tried placatingly, but he wasn’t put off.

“What’s wrong with him that he couldn’t get a woman his own age?”

She dropped the pacifying tone and put her hands on her hips. “What was wrong with you that you couldn’t get a woman your age when you pursued me?”

“That was different, Kerri,” he blustered.

“You’re right. I was younger than Maddie is now when we got together.”

She had him there. More surprisingly, she had my back in a way I hadn’t expected. I’d thought it would be them against me for at least a few dozen questions.

Something is fishy—and I’m not talking about the scaly trespasser.

“I… It’s… This…” Dad let out a disgruntled harrumph and grabbed his laptop. “I’ll be in my office.”

I rolled my lips between my teeth as I watched him storm off.

It wasn’t a horrifically epic disaster. He hadn’t threatened to go after Easton with a shotgun—though that was likely only because he didn’t have a shotgun.

That was about what I’d expected with Dad.

Mom, however, was a different matter.

She began pulling veggies from the fridge as she reassured, “Don’t worry about your dad. He’ll get over it. It’s just a shock.”

I eyed her. “Yet you didn’t look shocked. I didn’t get so much as an eyebrow raise.”

“Good. My Botox is still working.”

“It’s more than that.” I rounded the island to help her. “Why aren’t you upset or surprised or anything?”

“Because I’m a cool mom. You’re not the first woman to go through an older man phase. I married mine. And also, I knew. Do you want orange or yellow peppers in the salad?”

I nearly dropped the leafy greens I held—and since it was kale, I wished I had. “You knew ? How in the world could you know?”

“Again, I am a cool mom. I pick up on these things. Every time we’ve talked, you’ve seemed happier. Lighter. And also, Greer posted you two on her Instagram. But mostly, a mother knows her only daughter.”

“What? Greer didn’t post anything.”

“Late Saturday night. She deleted it by Sunday morning, but I’d already seen it.” Her blue eyes lit as she smirked. “And I took a screenshot.” She grabbed her phone from the counter and swiped the screen a few times before passing it to me.

It was a blurry picture of me laughing up at Easton.

Dammit, Greer.

“You look very drunk but very happy,” Mom said.

“I was and I am.” I stared down at the picture for far too long before something finally occurred to me. “Wait. You and the other OGs are blocked from seeing our accounts.”

Rolling her lips in like I did, her eyes widened. After a long second, she shrugged unrepentantly. “Our real accounts are blocked, not our finstas.”

I wasn’t sure what was more surprising.

That my mom knew the term finsta—fake Instagram.

Or that she had one.

A little of her chill slipped, and she gave me a somber look. “I can’t say I wasn’t surprised to see my college-aged daughter cozied up to an older man. Mostly because he doesn’t seem like your type. But I raised you to be smart and careful. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

“Good… That doesn’t mean that I won’t hit him with my car if he hurts you, though.”

“That’s why you’re a good mom.”

“I know. And that’s why I’m asking this now before your father gets back in here…” Mom paused with a cutting board in her hand. “Does Easton look as good out of the suit as he did in it?”

“Ew, Mom, I am not telling you that.”

But no.

He looks even better.

“Fine.” She might’ve let me off the hook for that one, but she had more nosy questions up her sleeves. “Are you the reason he didn’t take Doug as a client?”

I shook my head.

Not that I know of, at least.

“I didn’t talk to him after that night until well after that when I interviewed him for an alumni profile,” I said. “We just recently started seeing each other.”

Though now that I’m saying it out loud, the timing of running into him on campus does seem a little suspect.

I didn’t get the chance to think too closely on it when she demanded, “Tell me about him. And Wren’s new boyfriend. And is Greer done with Josh for good? Dad said he’s still working for Doug, so that must be awkward.”

“How much have you been stalking us?” I cried with all the dramatic angst I could muster.

“I believe your lawyer would tell me to plead the fifth. But you can’t do the same. Out with it.”

“Are you going to tell the other OGs?”

“Immediately,” she said, again having zero apology about that fact.

“I’ll tell you anyway, but only once you answer a question for me.”

Her eyes darted from the veggies she was chopping, to Dad’s bag, to the hallway he’d just disappeared down. Her caginess at the possibility I was going to ask about him made me want to do just that. My inquisitiveness demanded it.

But I swallowed down the slew of questions. She wouldn’t answer them, and it would just add more stress.

I’d done enough of that.

For the night, at least.

I would one hundred percent pester her at a later date.

I hooked a thumb toward the living room. “Who the heck is the bubble bully in the fish tank?”

She practically deflated as she let out a long exhale. “Oh. That’s Scrooge. He was supposed to be Donald, but he won’t let the others near the new castle.”

“Fitting name then.” I grabbed a cucumber and popped it into my mouth. “And you thought it would be boring when I left.”