Page 73 of Written in the Stars
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December 9
ELLE (2:08 P.M.):so annie and i were discussing your aesthetic earlier this morning and we think 70s style jumpsuits should be your new thing
ELLE (2:08 P.M.):you have the height to pull them off
ELLE (2:09 P.M.):granted going to the bathroom might be a bitch but you’ll look sexy while you struggle
DARCY (4:15 P.M.):Since when do you talk to Annie? Let alone about me?
ELLE (4:27 P.M.):annie and i go waaaaay back to last tuesday
ELLE (4:28 P.M.):catch up
ELLE (4:29 P.M.):jumpsuits yay or nay?
DARCY (4:31 P.M.):May... be?
ELLE (4:32 P.M.):
***
“Darcy!”
She tore her eyes from thePassionsxBewitchedfanfic she was drafting in Google Docs on her phone and searched for the source of her name. There, sitting on one of the couches in the center of her apartment’s lobby, was Gillian.Her mother. What was she doing in Seattle, let alone her apartment building?
“Mom?” Darcy crossed the lobby, stopping in front of hermother who clasped her arms with cold fingers and buffed a kiss across each of her cheeks. Darcy’s nose wrinkled at the cloying scent of nicotine and Yves Saint Laurent Opium that clung to Mom’s hair, so pungent Darcy could taste it. “What are you doing here?”
The colorful enamel bangles on Mom’s left wrist jingled as she released Darcy. “Have you done something different with your hair?”
“No?”
“Huh.” Mom laughed. “It looks different. Good, but different. You look great.”
“So do you.” Darcy raked her eyes over Mom’s outfit. It was Darcy’s style, but the yellow floral maxi and brown leather jacket looked nice on Mom. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
One hand on Darcy’s back, Mom silently ushered her in the direction of the elevator. “Why don’t we head upstairs?”
Darcy held her tongue until after the elevator spit them out on the ninth floor. “So. What brings you to Seattle?”
“Your brother’s Christmas party is next weekend.” Mom surveyed Darcy’s apartment for the first time with a speculative tilt of her head. Her wall art received an interested hum, her furniture a none-too-subtle frown.
“Does he know you’re already here?”
Mom gave a quiet huff of laughter and plucked a book off the shelf, scanning the cover before placing it back out of order. When Elle had touched Darcy’s things, at least she’d put them back where they belonged. “I would imagine he does, seeing as I’m staying in his guest room.”
Why was she just now hearing about this? Brendon hadn’t said anything at their lunch yesterday. “When did you get into town?”
Mom chuckled. “God, Darcy, what’s with the third degree?”
It wasn’t every Tuesday that Mom showed up at her apartment unannounced, but when she did, it spelled trouble. As much as Darcy wanted to believe this was nothing more than a surprise visit, that maybe Mom wanted to catch up, see how Darcy was settling into a new city, ignoring history would be foolish. Mom didn’t check in and she didn’t stop by for the hell of it. She made time for Darcy when she needed something—occasionally a place to stay for a night’s layover, quick cash when her latest ex screwed her over, most often someone to dump her emotional baggage on.
Every time, Darcy vowed to put a stop to the cycle and every time, she caved. Annie—because she couldn’t talk to Brendon, not about this—encouraged her to establish clear boundaries or else one day she’d snap from the pressure. It wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t fair, but what in life was? She had learned the meaning of resiliency when she managed to muscle through, shoulder a little more of Mom’s baggage.
She ran her fingers over the waist of her skirt, fidgeting with the tuck of her blouse. “You want a drink, Mom?”
Darcy escaped to the kitchen, assuming the answer would be yes.
