My eyes widen as my mouth drops open. Yep, she’s definitely lost her fucking mind. And it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out to whom she’s engaged.
Because he’s standing right next to her.
It takes me a moment to formulate words. I stammer a bit before blurting, “Dad is barely in his grave.”
“All the more reason to ally ourselves with the right people,” my mother replies. “You should be grateful your father isn’t here to see how close you were to losing your value.”
I sneer, crossing my arms over my chest as I listen to the soft footfalls of Amos approaching the couch. He rounds the side I’m on and rests a hand on my shoulder, fingers digging into my skin. I’ve felt that kind of touch before—all too recently. It reminds me of that grubby bastard from my uncle’s party.
Shrugging him loose is easy, but I can tell by his annoyed sigh that it isn’t the right move. What is the right move here? My security is gone, having been pulled out from under me like a rug. Even Demetra won’t be able to comfort me. Nothing will help. I’m stuck.
As I bow my head, I recall my father’s signature scent, the whiskey and wood smoke, the rugged musk of his favorite cologne infecting my nostrils any time he tugged me under his arm for a squeeze. The man was totally into alerting people of his presence, both with his scent and his booming voice. He was always the life of the party, taking up at the very least 80 percent of any room he occupied.
But with me? He was never so alarming. He was larger than life, and that’s what made me a fool to think he would be around forever. All giants must fall eventually.
And their little children are always next in line.