Charlotte Delaney has sworn off men. After one relationship disaster after another- including turning a guy gay!- Charlotte is so over the male species.
Isaac Fletcher had his heart cruelly broken. Yes, it was years ago. No, he never got over it. I...
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"I don't think that's any better than the first one," I grumble, looking at the latest piece of art that hangs above my daughter's bed. Unlike the original, it wasn't obscene but at the same time, should Sam really be giving Martha things like this? "Why couldn't he give you something normal, like a landscape painting?"
Martha shrugs her good shoulder and brings her morning mug of coffee up to her lips. She takes it black with one sugar in the morning, just like my sister May does. It's strange how she's picked up habits like that from various people in my family, considering she didn't spend that much time with them really. "I think it's nice. Artistic," Martha comments. Taking that as the end of the conversation because, just like her mother, Martha likes to have the last word, she leaves the bedroom of her mews house and starts to make her way towards the main house. "Anyway, I'm an adult-"
"Ha! No, you are not," I stop her words immediately. "You're seventeen. You're not an adult."
"I will be by the end of the month," my daughter takes pleasure in torturing me with that information. Once she's eighteen, she won't be a child any longer; she'll be my kid, but she won't be a kid. If that makes sense. I honestly wish that instead of turning eighteen, she reverts back to being a baby. Benjamin Button style. She holds the mug in the hand of her arm that's still in a sling while looping her other arm through the crook of my elbow. She rests her cheek on my shoulder and sighs. "Have you spoken more to mum about the party?"
I shake my head. "No."
Whereas Lottie had forgiven me about the whole Alyssa thing, Martha was still cold about it. She would mention it or ask about the situation every now and then but it never felt like she took a genuine interest in knowing anything about the party. Whenever Alyssa texts her about it, Martha deletes it. If Alyssa calls, Martha sends it straight to voicemail. Yesterday, Alyssa tried to corner her a the gallery after work but Martha went out the back way, smuggled out in Sam's car.
Martha, while she was excited about the prospect of having a party, didn't want one if Alyssa had anything to do with it. I hadn't spoken to Alyssa in a few days but whenever I did, it was strictly to do with Martha's party. We couldn't agree on the finer details, like the venue, guest list... well, we couldn't agree on a single thing. As far as I was concerned, if Martha turned around right now and said that she didn't want anything to do with the party, I would take her side and tell Alyssa where to go.
From the amount of times I've had to defend Alyssa to everyone, I've heard every single opinion of the woman going and although at times I would stick up for her actions, yesterday's conversation with my mother was proof that maybe I needed to open my eyes a little wider.
"Good. What exactly did gran tell you to make you change your mind?" Martha asks. She opens the door to head into the house and walks to the kitchen, looking over her shoulder at me with a knowing smirk. I hadn't told her about mine and my mother's conversation, so I had to wonder how Martha knew about it. I think the question was written on my face. "I'm omniscient. I know everything."
