Page 68 of Stick to the Deal
“Is this a fucking intervention?” I stand, shaking my head, my feet already in motion.
Three steps from the door, Bree’s tone stops me. “Sit the fuck down.” Did she just mom-voice me? And damn if it’s not working. “You’ve always been the tough-love one. Well, it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. Nobody’s leaving until we’ve all had a say.”
I stomp back to the chair. Do I look like a petulant child? Yes. Do I care? Not particularly.
“Suga’, we’re worried, and a little hurt. Since when do we keep secrets from each other?”
“Gee,Bella, what about you never telling us you went by an entirely different name half your life or had this great lost love.”
Anna flinches, and I’m almost sorry.
“That was about the past,” she says, “this is different.”
“Well, this is about my past.”
“Really? So when you were off in London attending galas on the arm of your husband, that was the past?”
“Yes, all the shit in London and with Grandmama are tied to my past.”
The silence hangs in the air. My skin prickles as I look at my two best friends. In all our years of friendship, we’ve never been at odds like this. It feels wrong, but I don’t want to back down.
“Then what about this?” Bree slaps an article about the art show on the coffee table.
Anna leans forward, wrapping her arms around herself, looking sad. “We would have gone. We would have cheered louder than anyone else. Why didn’t you tell us?”
I know they would have. “I wasn’t sure I was good enough. You think everything I do is great. What would you have thought if the critics hated it?”
Anna is on her feet and sitting by me in a moment. “Oh, suga’, we would have still been proud as hell of you. Then we would have taken you out to get wasted until you felt better.”
“You said hell.” I smile at the show of strong emotion from the ever proper southern belle.
Bree sits on my other side. “We feel like we don’t even know you anymore. There’s this whole other life you keep from us. We want to be there for you, but how can we if you hide things?”
“I know you don’t like to talk about your parents or growing up with your grandmother. We get it, we don’t exactly like talking about our childhoods either, but we’d like to know all the parts of you. To understand how to be there for you.” Anna grabs my hand and holds it in hers.
“You know the real me, Nic your friend. Nicolette is fake, a persona I have to wear. Every move, every word carefully chosen, only speaking in half-truths and playing games. I’m more myself with you than anyone else.” Well, almost. Reginald has quickly become that one person I can be completely free with.
“We all have different personas we have to wear in our lives. We flex to fit the situation or group of people. But that doesn’t change who we are. We want to know that side of you better. The gala-attending, ballet-loving you that keeps appearing in the tabloids.”
I curl my lip. “What if I don’t want to be her?”
Bree grasps my arm until I meet her gaze, her cobalt blue eyes full of emotion. “You can’t split yourself in two like that. Lady Ravenscourt, Nicolette Kato-Atherton, the scared little girl who lost her parents—they’re all you. The good bits. The bad. It made you who you are today, and we love you. Just the way you are.” She wraps her arms around me in a rare hug.
Anna joins in from the other side. “Wouldn’t change a single bit of ya, darlin’.”
As we sniffle back emotion, a sense of peace descends. Being at odds with these women has felt like a missing limb. They’ve been there for me my entire adult life. Ever since I ran away from London for a normal college experience in the States. I was so desperate to distinguish myself from the outcast teen and the grieving child,; I tried to shove my past in a box and hide it from my friends.
When my time ran out and my past caught up with me, I threw up walls to keep those parts of my life from colliding. But in reality, I was only pushing my friends further away.
“How did you two get so wise?”
“Years of therapy. I’ll give you her card. Right now, though, I’m dying for some girl talk. What’s it like being married to a viscount? And do you have pictures on your phone from the exhibition?”
I laugh as I wipe my eyes.
Anna bursts up and towards the kitchen. “Hold up, now. I’m making snacks, and I don’t want to miss anything!”
“I’ll make drinks.” Bree hurries after Anna on her much shorter legs.
