Page 57 of The Confidant

I’m lying. I’m ready to move in with him and stick to him like glue. It just seems like it’s too soon. Not for us, but for the people who know us.

Damon’s eyes got huge when Poe brought it up at the shop. He and Grace are slow-moving, even though he’s dead set on keeping her for the long haul. It’s freaking Damon out that I’ve gone all-in within weeks, and Poe is following along with a smug grin.

I think Damon and Grace created an intervention for us. Damon caught me at work with his cautioning lecture. He took all day to have a sit-down chat with me. Grace keeps catching Poe in their weekly group meetings.

When Poe told me about it, I was horrified on his behalf. He thinks it’s funny because she got the guts to call him out in public. Grace doesn’t talk much during their group time, and she went all out, hogging the whole hour talking to him. Everyone else in the group was split fifty-fifty on what he should do.

The SoT groups are supposed to meet up once a week to catch up and check in with each other. They can choose not to come, but that means a phone call or an email from at least one of the group members. Nobody gets left behind if Poe has anything to say about it, regardless of whether he is personally in the group or not.

Now they all know about me, and the random welcome-to-the-family texts I’ve gotten make my heart swell. No lectures, just open arms and acceptance.

Poe is the one getting the lectures. He’s smug every time he recounts an argument. Proving that he doesn’t care about all the negatives they point out because the positives outweigh them every single time.

I know that Poe is using his relentless focus on me in any way that he can. In every way that I need.

I thoughtIwas pushy. Then I met Poe.

“This whole thing is getting out of hand,” I sigh now with a ton of disappointment.

When does walking the line with friends become too much? It feels way too early to start arguing with them. They’re only looking out for us. Nobody wants us to make a decision we might regret.

I’m debating on it when my phone rings.

It’s Maman.

My good mood drops flat, but if I don’t answer, it will be a whole thing that I don’t want to deal with. Any time I ignore or miss her calls, she gets my sisters involved. It’s a nightmare of phone ringing that doesn’t stop until I talk to Maman.

“Hi, Maman,” I answer hesitantly. I’m trying to sound chipper, but with the way the last phone call went, it’s a struggle. I have a mirror right across from me to remind me of why, if I’m brave enough to look up.

“Adelaide.”

Uh oh. The dark tone of quiet rage makes my shoulders stiffen. What have I done now? How is it possible for me to make people mad when I’m not even in the same state as them? At least she still knows my name, though I wish she didn’t at this point.

“Yes?” My voice gets even more cautious.

“Thank you so much for assisting with the move. Daniella was so excited to see you.” The tone of false, mocking sweetness makes me frown.

“Huh?” I ask in confusion. “What move?”

Maman takes a deep breath on the phone to try to calm herself down.

“Who moved, Maman?”

“You’re going to pretend you don’t know.” She lets out a bitter laugh.

“No pretending here,” I protest with a frown. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Daniella’s move,” she tells me in a gentle voice. The rage is simmering underneath, making the tone a lie. “Her boyfriend, who she thought was her One, took all her money and left her up north to rot. We packed her up and moved her home.”

“What?” I sit down at the shock of it. “I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend! Is she ok?”

“She’s home. Of course, she’s ok.”

Only Maman would believe that being in her sphere of influence would magically cure everything. Every problem is always, move home, and I’ll fix it. Mental anguish doesn’t work that way.

“Daniella called you for help. You were supposed to meet us there. Why did you not show up, Adelaide? Your sister needed you, and you couldn’t be bothered to even call her?”

“I had no idea any of this was happening!” I yell back, my temper blowing up for the first time at my mother. Yes, she makes me angry. But not enough to yell. My frustration with all the unfair judgments has boiled over. “Why am I getting a call after it’s all said and done if you’re so pissed? You’re usually on my ass after ten seconds of waiting for me. Why don’t I know this asshole’s name or that he exists?”

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