Page 7 of The Forsaken Heir
Lorraine waved a hand through the air dismissively. “Even if not my grandson, I’d love to see you with someone, Elle. You deserve it. Sometimes,” she said, smiling sadly at me, “I get the impression that you’re lonely.”
“I’m not lonely,” I lied. “I have my friend Delphine. We hang out a lot. I’m a homebody, Lorraine.” I sliced through the tape on the box with a bit more force than was necessary. “It’s fine. I’m in no hurry to find a guy. Seriously.”
“Mmhmm.” Lorraine didn’t look as if she believed a single word that came out of my mouth.
Thankfully, she let it go and went about preparing the back room for the needlepoint class that would be starting soon. As I worked, I allowed my mind to drift. Unfortunately, instead of drifting to something pleasant like the new book I planned to read or what I wanted for dinner, it went to the memory of them turning me out all those years ago.
While breaking down boxes to put in the dumpster, I recalled the almost-disgusted look on Mom’s face as she handed my suitcase to Delphine.
“You take care of yourself,” she’d said. “Your nanny will take care of everything.”
Delphine was now pretty much my only friend and companion, but she’d begun her time as a nanny to a teenage shifter who had no ability to shift. A girl who was a blight on the shining family name.
“I’ll take good care of her, Mrs. Laurent,” Delphine had said, smiling warmly at me.
If it weren’t for Delphine’s kindness, I probably would have died of sadness those first couple years. I hadn’t understood how my parents could just send me away like that. They’d shoved me into the shadows and acted like I didn’t exist, simply because I hadn’t lived up to their expectations. Dad hadn’t even spoken to me when I left. Not one word. All the years of him bouncing me on his knee, reading me stories, calling me hislittle princesshad been thrown away because I was an embarrassment. They’d put me aside in favor of my younger brother Bastien. If a human family had done the same, they’d have been ostracized and shamed for the cruelty of it. I was over it, but the old memories still burned bright sometimes.
“Shit,” I hissed as the stack of flattened boxes slid out of my hands onto the floor in the storeroom.
“Rough day?”
I glanced up and found Mary-Ann kneeling to help me pick up the boxes. She was a teenager who worked here part-time after school.
“Oh, hey,” I mumbled. “Clumsy, I guess. Are you already out of school?” I asked, glancing around for a clock.
“Just got here,” Mary-Ann said. “My final-period teacher let us go five minutes early since it’s Friday. I was able to get off campus before the rush.”
“That’s nice,” I said as I lifted the boxes.
Mary-Ann placed the final few on the top of the stack. “Do you need any help?”
“Nope. I got it,” I said, using my butt to push open the door to the alley.
Friday. Payday. I hadn’t even realized it, until Mary-Ann said it. I donated most of the money I made here to good causes like the neighborhood animal shelter, but each payday, I splurged a bit. A bakery down the street from my apartment sold the best chocolate cherry cheesecake, and I purchased one of their small sizes every two weeks. It was one of the few indulgences I allowed myself. It was a reward for working on myself mentally, physically, and emotionally.
I’d never been a skinny girl, and when my family sent me into an all-expenses-paid exile, I’d allowed my depression to get the better of me and turned to food as an escape. Being a latent shifter, my metabolism was higher than most humans, but it wasn’t enough to surpass the sheer amount of junk food I’d eaten in an attempt to comfort myself.
Around seventeen, I’d decided to change things, so Delphine and I had started going to the gym. I lifted weights, jogged, and swam. I was still plus-sized, but I was in a much better place emotionally than I had been. I no longer used food as a coping mechanism, and while some people would call me fat, I was stronger than ever, powerful even. Who gave a shit what people thought as long as I was comfortable? I loved my body. A little cheesecake here and there wouldn’t change that.
“Are you coming back in?”
I turned to see Mary-Ann frowning at me.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Just a little lost in thought,” I said, tossing the boxes into the dumpster and heading back in.
When the sewing classes were over and Lorraine was getting ready to close for the evening, she pulled out a stack of envelopes.
“Paychecks,” she called, like an old housewife on the prairie calling the farmhands in for lunch.
“Thanks, Lorraine,” I said, taking my envelope from her.
She patted my hand. “You have a good weekend, sweetie.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Maybe find a hot guy to have some fun with.”
“Lorraine!” I gasped, choking out a laugh.
The old woman shrugged. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I don’t know things. If you don’t want to have a boyfriend, maybe you can find a boytoy.”
“Oh my god,” I moaned, rolling my eyes. “On that note, I’m leaving.”
