Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
And her smile is pure sunlight on her town bestie, Stella Fitzpatrick.
“Let’s go back,” I suggest, not aching to confront our mom today, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, her head swings in our direction.
She straightens up, then waves an energetic hand at us.
“What’s she doing?” Nova asks under his breath, very baffled. We all are, because in Victoria, Connecticut, her alias is Isla Rivers. She has zero relation to the three of us.
I’ve publicly interacted with “Isla” because Claudia Waterford tried to hire her and Addison to matchmake me and my ex-husband, but that ploy never really came to fruition.
“She’s getting up,” I whisper in panic to my brothers. What the hell is happening?
Our mom is out of her chair. She snatches her pistachio-green alligator Hermès Birkin, puts a sweet hand on Stella’s shoulder as if to say a quick goodbye, then struts down the patio stairs toward the beach. The ones that lead to us.
Her very pretty pale-yellow sundress (Oscar de la Renta, I’d bet) leaves me with fragments of envy, which are much easier to digest than the shards of hurt and betrayal.
“Stella’s watching us,” Oliver mutters, his lips barely moving.
“Should we just leave?” I ask them, but it’s clear our mom is coming to greet us. She’s plucked off her heels, then goes barefoot in the sand.
Nova is rigid. He’s glaring out at the ocean, unable to even look at our mom.
“It’s too late for that,” Oliver says, and with a dazzling smile, he waves up at Stella.
Her lips form a soured pucker, but she manages to acknowledge my brothers with a stiff hand while completely ignoring my existence. My social standing is shakier being Jake’s ex-girlfriend and working as a server. Luckily, Stella grabs her Chanel handbag and enters the Lure, not sticking around to snoop on us.
“Fancy finding you three here,” our mom says, journeying closer to us at the water.
“Some fancier than others,” Oliver teases me, since I’m the only one who currently appears like I shop at Old Navy. Nova has on an emerald-green Piaget watch worth over seventy grand, and Oliver exudes preppy yachtie energy with his striped swim shorts and perfectly styled brown hair.
The town believes our fictional backstory where the Smith family come from old money, but my disapproving parents revoked my trust fund when I rebelled and married Grey Thornhall. So it shocks no one in Victoria that my brothers are loaded while I’m serving clam chowder and crudités.
“What’d you tell Stella?” I ask our mom, unable to uncross my arms from a defensive posture.
She peers backward to make sure her fake best friend has left. “She knows I love good gossip—or rather, Isla Rivers does.” Her eyes brush over me, then Oliver, then Nova. “I told her I’d pick your brains and find out more about last night’s party at the Koning estate. The fight between Trent and Grey is all anyone can talk about. No one saw it coming. Honestly, neither did me and Addy.”
“Probably because he went off-script,” Oliver says casually.
“Rocky lost control?” She sounds as surprised as she does worried. “Was it something Trent said or did?”
We don’t outright gush forth like we’re a trusting, unfractured family. A fissure still runs between her and us, and I can’t figure out how to fill the crack. How do we forgive our mom for lying to us about our father? Is there really any coming back from that?
She’s careful of any passing beach walkers who could eavesdrop, but for the most part, the ocean drowns our conversation. Especially as she whispers to us, “You have every right to be hurt, but please don’t shut me out. I was just trying to protect you all from him.”
Nova launches a shell at the water, and our collective silence fills the air with tension.
“I was scared that he’d even find out you existed,” she continues. “You can’t even know what that was like. I was younger than you are now. Twenty-two. Checking over my shoulder for years, hoping he’d never run into me.” Her reddened eyes ping between us with a sadness and desperation for us to believe her.
My heart pangs suddenly, and Oliver’s must as well, because he asks, “So, then why did you sleep with him, if you were so scared of him? Were you playing him?”
Nova stiffens, his muscles flexing in his arms.
Our mom wears a sad smile. “I loved him. He made it easy to love him. Until I saw him for what he was.”
“A stalker,” I say.
“A murderer,” Nova adds.
“A monster,” I continue.
Oliver holds up a palm. “We get it.” He swings a hand back to our mom. “How are the date nights going?”
Our mom has been keeping tabs on Varrick in her own way. Using her history with him to have a weekly night out on the town. I think it’s the only reason she, Addison, and Everett feel comfortable handing over the reins to us. They have some connective tissue to the con.