Your Fault (Culpable Book 2)

Maddie would be there soon, and we needed to finish her room. I had told my mother I’d be staying there during some of the days she was with Nick, and since I didn’t want things to go even further south between us, I went home like a good girl once I’d made sure all the junk had been cleared out of Madison’s room and there was space for the furniture to be brought in and assembled. Nicholas would be supervising everything, and he wouldn’t see me until after I’d spoken with Anabel Grason.

Time passed quickly afterward. I had hoped to be able to better prepare myself, but before I knew it, the morning of Anabel and Maddie’s arrival was there. I was nervous; I knew Nicholas was, too. He had sent me a bunch of photos asking me if I liked the room, if his sister would like it, if we should change the furnishings, if it might be better to put the bed under the window instead of in the corner, if the dresser was big enough, if she’d like the remote-control train as much as he did.

I laughed on the other end of the line. “Nick, she’s going to love it. Anyway, your sister’s coming to see you, not her new room.”

He paused. “I’m nervous, Freckles. I’ve never spent more than a day with her. What if she starts to cry all of a sudden because she misses home? She’s a little kid, and I’m a grown man. Sometimes I don’t know how to deal with that stuff.”

I smiled in the mirror in front of me. I loved when he worried like that: Nick, who was always so self-assured, so commanding, so bossy. When he let down his guard and showed me how tender his heart was, all I wanted was to hug him.

“I’ll try to be over there most of the time,” I said, sitting on my bed and looking up at the beams in the ceiling.

“What? You’re going to be here the whole weekend, no?” he replied, changing to a more serious tone.

I bit my tongue. Just then, someone knocked at my door.

“Can we talk for a moment?” my mother asked, coming in and observing me. I nodded, happy for the first time in my life to have my mother interrupt a conversation with Nick.

“My mom wants to talk. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

I hung up before I regretted it, setting my phone down on the mattress next to me and watching my mother pace back and forth. She looked distracted and a little upset. We hadn’t had the best time lately, either of us. It had been weeks since we’d really talked, and things would certainly get worse when I told her about my plans.

“Are your suitcases almost packed?”

I knew she was feeling me out. I never packed my bags until the day before. I’d inherited the habit from her. We didn’t understand why people needed weeks to pick out their clothes, shove them in a suitcase, and zip it, but still, I shook my head, thinking I’d take advantage of this attempted reconciliation to tell her I would be living with Nick.

“Almost. Listen, Mom…” I started to say, but she interrupted me.

“I know you’re champing at the bit to get out of here, Noah,” she said, grabbing a shirt and folding it, distracted.

I took a deep breath, watching her eyes glaze over. “Mom, I don’t…”

“No, Noah, let me tell you something: I know the past few days have been difficult, that we haven’t gotten along well since we returned from Europe, and believe me, I get it: you’re in love, and you want to spend all your time with Nicholas… I just would have liked for this…”—she pointed at the two of us—“to stay intact. You and I have always gotten along well. Even when you were going out with Dan”—I frowned hearing my ex-boyfriend’s name, but I let her go on—“you used to come running to my room to tell me how the night had gone and all the romantic stuff he’d said to you, remember?”

I nodded, grinning. I could see where she was going.

“Now that we’re getting close to the time you’ll leave, I just wanted to tell you I’ve tried to give you the best things I could. I really wanted you to consider this place your home. I wanted you to live here, surrounded by all these opportunities. Even when you were little, I dreamed of seeing you in a room like this, with more toys and books than I could have ever hoped to give you on my own…”

“Mom, I know I was unbearable when you told me we were coming here, but I understand now why you did it, and you don’t need to explain anything, okay? You gave me everything you could, and I know it’s hard for you to see me with Nicholas, but I love him.”

She closed her eyes when she heard this and forced a smile. “I hope you grow up to be a wonderful writer someday, Noah. I know you will, and that’s why I want you to take advantage of every opportunity life gives you. Study, learn, and enjoy college. These are going to be the best years of your life.”

“I will,” I whispered, and though I smiled, I felt a little guilty that I couldn’t bring myself to be sincere with her and tell her about Nick.

The next morning, I got up early. I was nervous and went down to breakfast trying to put out of my mind what I was about to do. Maddie would be there in a few hours, and there was no chance that her mother would back down now. I repeated a thousand times over that I was doing this for him, that this was forgivable, but deep down, in some hidden corner of myself, I also wanted to get to know Anabel and find out what she wanted from Nick and why she’d decided to leave him behind.

I barely ate any breakfast: half a piece of toast and a coffee with milk. Nick informed me that he would be picking up Maddie at the same time I was meeting with his mother, so I had time to come up with something when, inevitably, he asked me where I’d been. While he was distracted taking Maddie to lunch, I would dispatch that clandestine meeting as quickly as possible.

I was well aware of what kind of woman Nick’s mother was. She was the typical posh millionaire’s wife who liked to blab about all the yachts, horses, and mansions she had all over the world. Since I didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention, I put on a light-blue high-waisted flounced skirt and a yellow Chanel top I’d had for some time. Jenna had given me some white Miu Miu sandals, very pretty, very expensive, but whatever, they went well with the outfit. This was one of the few times I’d gone out dressed head to toe in name brands, but I didn’t want Anabel to intimidate me. Everyone knows a well-dressed woman is a powerful woman.

When I got to the Hilton, a man in elegant clothes walked over to my convertible. I gave him the keys, praying he wouldn’t scratch it. My sandals clacked on the sidewalk. The automatic doors opened, and inside, I found an elegant reception hall with little chairs distributed strategically over thin beige and brown rugs. In the back was an enormous split stairway, just as in my house. I had no idea where to go, so I walked to the desk, where two well-dressed girls smiled at me.

“How can we help you, miss?” one of them asked, and I could tell from her eyes that she was admiring my outfit. She must have been asking herself how a girl her same age could have all that I had and be facing her from the other side of the counter. There were times when I was thankful not to be the type of person who cared about fashion and money. I had never wanted this stuff; it had never mattered to me. I was by nature a simple person and in no way saw that girl as less than me.

“I’m supposed to be having lunch with Anabel Grason… I don’t know if she’s left me a note or something…” I said hesitantly. The girl looked at her computer, nodded, and smiled.

“Mrs. Grason is waiting for you in Andiamo. If you go down that hall, you’ll find the door on the right. Enjoy your lunch.”

I smiled and tried to maintain my composure as I walked over. Just as I reached the restaurant, my phone buzzed. I looked at the message: it was a photo of Nick and Maddie in McDonald’s. I smirked as I saw her gap-toothed smile: her two front teeth had fallen out! I couldn’t imagine what Nicholas was saying to the poor girl! Still grinning, I wrote back to say I’d catch up with them soon. Then I put my phone on airplane mode.

I looked around at the cozy, unpretentious dining room, with its elegant chairs the color of milk tea, the white tablecloths on the square tables, the white plates and garnet napkins, the well-tended decorative plants. As soon as I walked in, the scent of freshly made pasta and pesto invaded my senses.

I took a deep breath when I saw Anabel and walked over to her. Her outfit was graceful, as I’d imagined: a beige pantsuit and an attractive black blouse. She was wearing stiletto heels, which made her several inches taller than me. She smiled, and I stretched out my hand before the situation got uncomfortable: I had no idea what the custom was when you were secretly having lunch with your boyfriend’s mom, who’d abandoned him ten years ago.

“Hi, Noah,” she said warmly.

“Mrs. Grason,” I replied with good manners.

She sat down and motioned for me to do the same.

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation.” After saying this, she brought a glass of wine up to her lips, leaving a red stain on the rim.

So this was it. I took a deep breath.

Her blue eyes were piercing, just like her son’s, and I felt a shiver run up and down my spine.

“You’re a very pretty girl, Noah. But I’m sure you know that. If you weren’t, my son wouldn’t have taken an interest in you, naturally.”

I forced a smile. That remark rankled me, as if she were saying Nick’s and my relationship was something superficial, empty, but then, her relationships probably all were… All the money she’d invested in trying to look like a thirty-year-old made it obvious that was the kind of person she was.

“We could probably spend hours talking about nothing, Mrs. Grason, but you made me come here for a reason, and I’d just as soon get to the point,” I said, trying to be nice, hard as that was. My suspicions were right: I didn’t like that woman, and I never would. “You wanted me to do you a favor. Tell me what it’s about.”

Anabel smiled, maybe even with admiration. I think she liked my being so direct with her.

“I want to have my relationship with my son back, and you’re going to help me,” she said. She took an envelope out of her designer bag and handed it to me. It was made of high-quality thick marbleized paper, with Nicholas’s name written on the outside in calligraphy. “All I need is for you to make sure Nicholas reads this letter.”

I looked at the envelope with distrust. I had no idea how I could convince Nick to read it. Plus, giving it to him would mean admitting I’d seen his mother, and there was no way I was doing that.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know how a simple letter will help you get your son back. You abandoned him.” The hatred in my eyes must have been evident to her—the same hatred I felt anytime someone hurt a person I cared about. I just couldn’t keep it inside.

“How old are you, Noah?” she asked, shoving the envelope toward me.

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” she repeated, as though savoring the word, smiling like an angel—the kind of smile appropriate for a child, not a grown woman, and certainly not her. “I’m forty-four… I’ve been in this world a lot longer than you, I’ve lived through many more experiences than you, and so before you judge me the way you already have, you should stop and think about the fact that you’re just a little girl, and the worst thing that’s probably ever happened to you is when they took you away from your home and moved you into a mansion in California.”

“You don’t know one thing about my life,” I said in an icy tone.

The image of my dead father shot through my head, and I felt a sting in my chest.

“I know a lot more than you think. I know things even you don’t know, things you’d prefer never to know. And with just a few phone calls, I can make all that come out.”

A diabolical smile appeared on her face. She picked up the letter, stood, and walked over beside me. Slowly, nimbly, she slipped it into my bag, which was hanging on the back of my chair.

“Make sure Nicholas reads this,” she whispered. “Otherwise, this whole fantasy you’ve been living and all this money that’s rained down on you from heaven will go up in smoke.”

I stood, feeling something like an electric shock.

“Don’t get in touch with me again,” I said, trying to control myself after that threat of—I didn’t know exactly what.

“Don’t you worry. I have no intention of doing so. But I repeat: if you don’t want your worst nightmares to come true, be sure you do what I’ve asked.”

I turned around and walked out without even ordering anything to eat, ignoring the malice implicit in her words, passing through reception, and emerging outside.

I’d been an idiot, an out-and-out imbecile for meeting with that woman. Nicholas had warned me—he had talked to me about her, about how cruel she was, but I’d been stupid enough to let myself get dragged in, and she’d told me a pack of lies. Because that’s what they were, lies, and I wasn’t going to think about them for one more minute. I took out the letter, tore it into a million pieces, and scattered them in every trash can I passed.

For me, that meeting had never happened.