Page 88 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

AVERY

T hey’re letting me into their lives. Am I letting them into mine?

My stomach sloshes with guilt as I get dressed for the gallery opening.

I need to tell them about Victor, about the ring, about everything.

I don’t feel right keeping this from them.

Ten years ago, I was in trouble, and I kept it from them, and everything had ended in disaster. You think I’d have learned my lesson.

I’ve slipped into my dress and am straightening my hair when my phone rings.

It’s my mother. It’s taken Maisie Welch a week and a half to return my phone call.

I checked with my bank earlier this week. The five hundred thousand dollars reached them on Monday, but though I’d waited for a call, an email, any acknowledgment of my help, there’s been nothing. I know it’s unworthy of me, but I feel used.

“Mum.”

“Hello, Avery.”

I haven’t spoken to her in seven years. I don’t think I know what to say to her anymore. “How are you doing?”

“Up and down. You know how it is.”

Actually, I don’t, I want to scream. You haven’t bothered to let me in or keep me abreast of what’s going on in your life.

“Did you get the money? When does your treatment begin?”

“About that…” She sounds nervous. “There was something your father didn’t tell you when he talked to you. He didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge.”

I’m not given to flights of fancy, but I have a dreadful premonition of impending doom. “What is it?”

“I’ve been to Dusseldorf twice already in the last year, Avery,” she says. “Immunotherapy is an ongoing treatment.”

“Okay,” I say slowly.

“And it’s been a financial strain,” she replies. “We wouldn’t have been able to afford it had it not been for Victor.”

The room seems to blur around me. “Victor?”

“He loaned us the money for the first two rounds,” she says. “More than five hundred thousand pounds.” She exhales shakily. “I have no idea how we’re going to pay him back.”

“Why did you ask him?”

“He offered to help. He’s always been a good friend. Even after you broke his heart the way you did.” Her voice softens. “He’s never said anything to us, but it’s obvious that he wants you back.”

My parents really have rose-tinted glasses when it comes to my ex-husband. Then again, they always have. My parents dream of mingling among high society, and Victor is a Baron. “Victor thinks he owns me,” I reply bitterly. “I’m not a person to him. I’ve never been.”

Maisie Welch makes a dismissive sound in her throat. “You’ve always been so high-strung,” she says. “Victor treated you like a queen, and you were never grateful.”

“Victor is threatening to have me arrested.”

“I’m sure it’s all in your head, dear. He would never do any such thing.”

I’m twenty-nine now. I can resist the gaslighting. When I was nineteen, isolated in Sussex, I had no such defense.

“You were dreadful to him, Avery. And yet, he still helped us out.” She draws in a deep breath. “Your father is quite worried about paying him back. Of course, if you were still married…”

Bile rises in my throat. My parents don’t give a flying fig about my happiness. “I’m seeing someone else.”

She inhales sharply. “You are?”

“Yes, mother. I am.” I wait for her to ask who it is, for her to ask if I’m happy, but there’s nothing.

I just can’t take this conversation anymore. I don’t want to face how little my parents really care about me.

“Let me know when the next treatment is,” I say quietly, slumping against the wall. “If you want me to fly to Germany to help out, I’ll be glad to.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” she says at once. “We’re all under a lot of stress. Given the circumstances, I don’t think that’s advisable.”

What circumstances? That I’m not jumping to do their bidding by marrying Victor so that they don’t have to pay him back?

“Okay.” I think I’m going to be sick. “Keep me posted. Goodbye, mother.”

I hang up and sink to the floor, burying my face in my hands. A sickening realization paralyzes me for a second.

Not once have either of my parents thanked me for helping them out.