Page 48 of Changing Rules

“Hey,” I murmur, leaning closer.

“Hey.” Her voice is neutral, detached. “Granny, this is my boyfriend, Xan—Alexander.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Alexander.”

Unease washes over me as I meet Bella’s grandmother’s gaze.

She nods woodenly. “Please, call me Cordelia.”

“Nice to meet you too, Cordelia.” I put on a smile and dip my chin. “How do you like Boston?”

“It’s nice to see my family, but I don’t really like the state, or the city.” She picks up her drink and takes a sip. “I have no idea what Samantha sees in it, or why she stayed after her husband died. I’ve asked her to move back home a million times, yet her answer is always no. I guess after getting a taste of freedom, she doesn’t want to be caged again.”

“You make it sound as if choosing to live my own life is a terrible thing,” Samantha quips, returning to the room with the flowers arranged in a vase.

“No,” Cordelia says, lifting her chin. “I just think you set a bad example for your own daughter. She doesn’t come home unless you force her.”

“I did not force her.” Samantha sits across from us, her expression pinched.

“You did. It’s obvious by how uncomfortable she is. When was the last time your child was home, Sam?”

A flush creeps up Samantha’s neck and into her cheeks. “A…year ago.”

“Isabella, is that true?” Cordelia turns to her granddaughter with one eyebrow arched.

“It’s been more like two. Last time was right after I graduated from college.” She sneaks a glance at her mother before she peers at Cordelia. “I don’t think of this place as my home. It’s their house, hers and Kevin’s.”

“That’s what I thought.” Cordelia’s face softens. “What about you, Alexander? Are you close with your family?”

Sitting up straighter, I nod once. “My parents are great. They’re supportive and involved in my life.” I lock eyes with Samantha, and for a second, her mask slips. I could swear something like regret swims in her irises.

What made her the way she is? What could’ve made her hate her daughter so much?

“It warms my heart to hear you say that.” Cordelia smiles at me. “It means Isabella has an example of how a family should treat one another.”

“Wow, Mother.” Samantha’s voice is dry. “If your goal is to humiliate me, you’re doing an amazing job.”

“I just wanted to see Isabella. The last time you allowed her to visit me was eight years ago, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“Not that you bothered to try.” Samantha grabs her drink and tosses it back in one go. “I don’t remember you ever joining us for holidays. You always expected us to come to Montgomery and never wanted to return the favor.”

“It’s my biggest regret,” the older woman says. “Because now I know how you treated your child.” Cordelia’s words drown the room in a suffocating silence.

She straightens and takes a deep breath in, shifting so she’s facing a stunned Bella.

“I’ve been renovating my house. Did you know that? Two months ago, they tore up the floor in the guest bedroom. A worker found your diary under a loose floorboard—you musthave hidden it there when you visited me that last time. It’s from when you were fifteen. I’m sorry for invading your privacy, but I’m not sorry about discovering how your mother was treating you.”

“She’s a liar,” Samantha huffs.

Cordelia doesn’t even look at her. She keeps her focus trained on Bella.

“Mom,” Samantha says, “you can’t possibly believe everything she wrote. She was a teenager, desperate for attention. You have no idea the kinds of lies she’s told.”

“‘My mom barely talks to me, and when she does, it’s only to punish me for what she thinks I’ve done wrong. I can spend all day in my room, and she won’t even come to check on me. She won’t ask if I’ve eaten. She won’t suggest spending time together. I’m pretty sure she prefers it this way. She’d rather not have to see me.’”

Cordelia’s words send shivers down my spine. Did Bella write that in her diary? Is that how she felt living in this house?

“You were a horrible mother, Sam, and you still are.”

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