Page 29 of Bewitched By the Siren
“No, I didn’t know that,” I say. “That’s pretty cool.”
“And Hali means ‘sea.’”
“It’s a beautiful name,” I say, my eyes skirting toward the woman in question.
She holds my gaze for a split second before looking away, that pretty pink color riding high in her cheeks again. Changing the subject, I ask Hali to put the lasagna noodles in the now-boiling water while I organize the sauce, ricotta, and other ingredients on the counter to make an assembly line, of sorts.
I catch Grace watching us with curved lips as we work. Once the pasta is ready, Hali leans against the counter beside me, memorizing how I layer the ingredients together in the glass dish. Once the lasagna is in the oven, we join Grace at the table.
Grace regales me with stories about Hali growing up and the mischief she’d get into. Hali doesn’t seem to be embarrassed, at all. She smiles and laughs with us, adding elements to the stories that I’m sure are embellished.
“And what about your dad?” I ask when Hali finishes Grace’s story about the two of them sneaking off to Atlanta to ride roller coasters when Hali was supposed to be in school.
Quiet descends, and I panic, feeling stupid for bringing it up. Of course, he’s not in the story. Hali told me he wasn’t in the picture. I just forgot for a moment. And now, I’ve probably ruined the evening by bringing up an off-limits topic.
“I actually don’t have a dad,” Hali says before I can backpedal. Taking Grace’s hand, she smiles at her mother, adding, “Mom adopted me when I was baby. She raised me all on her own.”
“That’s…amazing,” I say, this new fact driving home what an awesome mother Grace is to Hali.
And why Hali won’t even consider leaving her. Not even for a record deal that could potentially make her a star.
“We’ve had a good life,” Grace says, shooting a loving gaze at her daughter. “And I want Hali to have everything.”
There’s meaning in those words, an undertone I think Grace meant for me to catch. Like she knows why I’m here, and she wants Hali to go for it. To shoot for the stars and not let her mom’s condition hold her back.
Or maybe I’m just hearing what I want to hear.
The conversation flows on to other topics, and by the time we have steaming plates of lasagna in front of us, we’re laughing and bantering like they’ve known me for years. Grace is a true delight.
It’s obvious by the time we finish that Grace’s energy is lagging, and I offer to clean up while Hali helps her to bed. Hali shoots me a grateful look as Grace thanks me for dinner, then I watch as they disappear down the hall. Snapping into action, I make short work of packing away the leftovers and loading the dishwasher.
I’m pouring two fresh glasses of wine when Hali reappears. Her steps stutter when she sees what I’m doing, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped. Did she expect me to leave now that dinner’s over?
I’m relieved when her lips curve upward. She moves forward, picking up one of the glasses and taking a sip with a satisfied sigh. Jerking her head toward the living room, she heads in, fully expecting me to follow. She plops down on the couch, and I sit beside her.
“I know Mom wants more for me,” she says quietly, “but I can’t leave her. She needs me. I have to take care of her, both physically and financially. She’s the reason I can’t sign your contract.”
Even though I’d already drawn that conclusion on my own, I want to argue with her. To get her to see that signing a deal would bring in more money than she could imagine. She could afford the best care for her mom. She would never have to worry about money again.
But I hold my tongue. I know that money isn’t as important to Hali as being here with her mom. Especially now, knowing that Grace adopted her and raised her on her own, I can see how much Hali loves her and doesn’t want to leave her side.
I respect her for that. But that respect is completely at odds with my mission. It’s my job to get her to sign. My own livelihood could very well depend upon it.
But how can I, in good conscience, convince her to leave when I know it’s not the right thing for her?
God, this whole situation is impossible, and I have no clue what I’m going to do.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hali
I’ve never wantedto kiss someone so badly in my entire life.
Brendan was perfect with Mom during dinner. A lot of people end up treating her like she has a mental disability rather than a physical one, but Brendan behaved like she has neither. Like he was just trying to charm the mother of the girl he likes. That girl beingme.
And damn if it didn’t work.
Mom raved about him as I helped her to bed, ordering me to explore the connection we have and not use her illness, my dual nature, or any other excuse to keep that, and I quote, “hot piece of man meat” at an arm’s length. I pretended to brush off her advice, but it rings in my ears as I sit here with him, talking and drinking wine that’s making me a little too relaxed for my own good.
