The Heart That's Meant to Love You

Chapter 43: Explanation

Naomi knew what she would face when she went home, no matter if Oliver covered for her or not.

But it still made her shoulders sag in relief when Oliver asked, "Should I come inside with you?"

Facing her mother would go so much smoother with Oliver's help. Ms. Rowe didn't like to show her mean side in front of outsiders. Her reputation—her mask of perfection—was all that mattered to her. No one could see through that, or her whole world might come crumbling down.

Or so Naomi had come to believe.

Naomi unbuckled her seat-belt and clutched her bag to her chest. Should she take Oliver inside with her? Should she try to handle her mother's wrath on her own?

Oliver shut off the engine. "I'll come in to explain."

Something about the way he said it rubbed Naomi the wrong way, but she would rather put down that feeling in hopes that Oliver would appease her mother's anger. They could address other issues later. For now, Naomi wanted nothing more than to get past the lecture she so vividly saw coming.

"Wait for me." Oliver retrieved his umbrella from the backseat before he dove out into the rain.

A few seconds later, Naomi's door opened.

Oliver held the umbrella overhead. "Let's go."

She would have to face it sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Oliver had always been a sort of shield as well as her friend. Surely he would come through for her now.

Naomi's shoes hit the pavement with a splash, spraying water up onto her ankles. Each cold pinprick reminded her of the oncoming reality.

Oliver rested a hand against her back to guide her. Considering it was easier to move with the umbrella that way, Naomi allowed it. But that, too, seemed off.

Sure, it wasn't the first time Oliver guided her like that. Naomi had always gone along with it before. Before she knew what it felt like when her heart stopped at the brush of fingers. Before she discovered that she could lose her breath just by making eye contact.

A pang around Naomi's heart ached to see Kieran. If only he could be the one to take her home.

Naomi shook her head to dispel the thought before it took root. She did her best to refuse Kieran, so why did she always find herself backtracking? Did she like him that much?

Maybe. But those were questions for a different time.

For now, Naomi focused on entering the building. On pressing the right button in the elevator.

"Are you going to be okay?" Oliver asked as the elevator ascended.

"Of course," Naomi lied.

Oliver knew so little about the dynamics between Naomi and her mother. He saw only what Ms. Rowe showed him. Heaven forbid that Naomi allow a window into her world. Gilded cages held pretty things, but they could never be more than a shiny prison.

Money and prestige came at a high price.

The elevator doors opened as cheerily as ever, but Naomi paid them no mind. Heavier things weighed on her thoughts.

Somehow, Naomi managed to keep her fingers steady enough to type in the passcode on the door. It swung with a chime. A chime that would alert her mother to Naomi's presence.

Oliver, with a pat to Naomi'sshoulder, stepped inside first.

Naomi rolled her neck to loosen the already tightening knots. Then she, too, dove into the lion's den.

Admittedly, Naomi used Oliver to shield her physically as they made their way into the condo.

Oliver stopped in the living area, where Naomi figured her mother already waited. "Good evening, Ms. Rowe."

"Mister  Bettencourt." Ms.Rowe bit out each syllable as if Oliver had committed a mortal sin. "Don't think I'm stupid enough to believe that my daughter had nothing to do with today's incident."

"Today was really my fault, Ms. Rowe," Oliver offered too apologetically.

Naomi felt bad, making Oliver lie for her. She should have the backbone to stand up for herself. But she didn't.

"I'll be the judge of that." Ms. Rowe cleared her throat. "Naomi, show yourself. I want an explanation."

At least her mother would go easy with Oliver in the room. Naomi swallowed a breath of stagnant air. Took two steps to the side. And did her best to look her mother in the eye.

You've done nothing wrong, Naomi reminded herself.

Ms. Rowe seemed to think otherwise. "Explain, Naomi."

If Naomi asked what Ms. Rowe wanted her to explain, it would only start a fight. Even if Naomi truly had no clue what she needed to explain, asking would make Ms. Rowe believe that Naomi wanted to talk back.

"I..." Naomi didn't dare glance to Oliver for help.

Yet, Oliver answered anyway. "Like I said, it's my fault. I wanted to take Naomi out for a surprise meal. I should have checked with you first."

"That doesn't explain why Naomi didn't pick up my calls."

Naomi internally winced, but didn't dare show it on the surface. She had never lied to her mother before. It appeared that there was a first time for everything.

"My phone was on silent."

Believable, since Naomi had been in class all afternoon. But the thread of deceit hung thin and taught, ready to break with the slightest pressure.

Ms. Rowe studied her daughter with an intense, searching gaze. Then she looked to Oliver. "I understand your kind intentions. You've always been an excellent young man. I don't want to hold this against you, but you must promise it won't happen again."

"Yes, ma'am."

Had that actually worked? Naomi tried not to appear too confused. Had her mother bought that lie? It didn't seem likely, but she had moved on as if it didn't matter.

Had Oliver's presence had something to do with it? That seemed unlikely, but at the same time it was the only answer that made sense. Oliver had been the only thing different during this argument. Why did her mother bend and sway to his tune so easily?

Naomi found herself staring, not at her mother but at Oliver. Did he have something to lord over her mother? How did he so easily diffuse the situation? Could he do no wrong in Ms. Rowe's eyes?

"You should get to bed, Naomi. It's late." Ms. Rowe's tone didn't warm when speaking with Naomi.

Naomi nodded, dumbfounded by all that just happened.

Oliver rested a hand on Naomi's shoulder. "I'll pick you up in the morning."

"I don't think that's strictly necessary," Naomi shot back.

Ms. Rowe cleared her throat again. "Be gracious, Naomi."

Naomi had survived one argument already. She didn't need to start another. So she offered a tight smile before she disappeared to her room.

A few moments later, the front door closed, but not before a whispered conversation between her mother and Oliver.

Naomi sank onto her bed, flabbergasted by the turn of events. Just what were her mother and her childhood friend up to? And why, out of all the possible premonitions, did Naomi have a feeling that their plan intimately involved her life?