Page 10 of All For You

I sighed too and felt a bit sorry for her. I loved my dad and we had a special relationship, but he was never going to change.

“I know you think I’m a jolly nuisance.” She clipped into her seat belt with a wounded look, and my heart twinged with guilt about hurting her feelings again.

This was the constant push and pull between us—her embarrassing us, and me having to take action, like how I’d hauled her out of the Amor Inn before she did any more damage.

“But with your hopeless father mentally and emotionally AWOL for decades,” she went on, “and me scraping together what I can with my dance teaching and my gigs, you two girls donothave a financial backup. I’ve learned my lesson too late. My brother married money, and now he’s living large in a magnificent old mansion, and dearest Emma is set for life. Take a leaf out of your uncle’s book.”

This was a conversation we had often, and I understood her behavior sprang from her deep worry about us, but it didn’t make her shenanigans any less cringeworthy in the moment.

“I know, Mum. But living in that enormous old house hasn’t made Uncle Henry any happier. He’s a terrible old hypochondriac. And he’s on his own.”

That perked her up a little.

“And Dad is still with us,” I said.

She scowled, and without a backward glance, she zoomed out of the driveway at speed. Her bright-pink Mini was emblazoned across the bonnet with a photo of her doing the splits, dressed in feathers and sequins, as though still in her glory days in London.

As usual, the sight of that image made me laugh and wince a little. Mum was embarrassing, but she was also, in her own way, a fighter. None of us had much money now, and Dad, though gentle and funny, had never contributed, always holed up in his study, writing the endless esoteric novel that never got finished, seemingly unable to hold down a paying job.

A terrible thought crawled through me, making the hair on my neck stand on end. Was that my future if I couldn’t break through my writer’s block?

CHAPTER 6

Lizzy

Back in the house, I ran into Darcy on the stairs. His eyes softened, which had the opposite effect on me, making me stiffen. This man didn’t do soft. He leaned forward, as though he wanted me to know something.

Then maybe thinking better of it, he jerked back suddenly. “Your mother got off okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Going home to rest for her ‘gig’?” And there it was. His voice was now riddled with disdain. He couldn’t help himself.

I nodded slightly, not rising to his obvious scorn. Mum was often mortifying and frequently misguided, but she was still my mother.

“Retiring?” he asked.

He wasn’t good at this small talk, but he seemed to want to delay me. Why?

“Going to my room to read,” I murmured.

He rocked on his heels. “More romance books?”

A twist of anger drove through my chest. I faced him full on. “Why do you have to say everything with that sneer in your voice?”

“I-I…” For once, he was speechless.

Firming my lips, I thumped up the stairs to my bedroom.

Closing the door, I raged into the room, which was empty except for Oodles.

“How am I going to put up with that man for a weekend?” I stormed aloud. Oodles whimpered from his donut under the window, his black, brown, and white face lifted in worry. “Sorry, nothing to do with you, Oodles. That man is insufferable.”

I needed a flash of cold air, and Oodles needed his evening walk, so I took him outside to the forest. I breathed in the chilly night air smell of wet moss and pine. Then it was back to my room again, where I changed for bed and settled down with a book, somewhat less angry. But I couldn’t focus.

Darcy was under my skin and not in a good way. Thinking his name made me prickly and defensive. In my every interaction with him, he’d been rude and humiliating, highlighting what I lacked and making me feel worse about the fact that I was single and I couldn’t write a romance, even though I believed in love. I always aimed to be positive and light in the way I lived, and he’d rammed into my space with his heavy negativity, making me question myself and my life.

This was supposed to be a fun weekend, but I was dreading the next two days with him in the house. Did I even need to compete in the cooking show tomorrow? Maybe I could learn the details of the romantic afternoon secondhand.