Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter Book 2)

by Melanie Martins

  As Mom steps in, the smell of fresh paint and wood is quickly replaced by a complex mixture of rose, vanilla, and amber. I’m surprised to hear nothing but silence though.

  “What do you want?” I ask, since she doesn’t say a word.

  Mom stands still, just beyond the doorway. Then she finally closes the door behind her and says, “I’d like to apologize for what I said earlier.”

  My eyes narrow in confusion. “About what?”

  Mom hesitates as she looks away for a moment. “About calling you, well, you know…”

  “A slut?”

  She takes a few steps in my direction, her expression just as embarrassed. “I had never seen my daughter kissing anyone before,” she opens up. “Let alone a forty-one-year-old man who is her godfather.” Mom draws in a breath, her eyes darting down, as she thinks something through. “Those images were… disturbing, to say the least.”

  “That doesn’t justify your lack of manners,” I snap back. “Dad didn’t call me anything.”

  “I’m not him, Petra.”

  “Damn right, you’re not.” Mom widens her eyes, probably astounded that I replied back so fast.

  As a cold silence settles in, the air between us gets tenser by the second, and my patience for sharing the same space as her is running out. “Can you leave me alone now?”

  But Mom doesn’t react. She seems to be on another planet as she glances around my atelier. “It’s a beautiful place you’ve got here. This is where you paint?” Her tone is sweet and inviting, but I know what she is trying to do.

  “Doesn’t it look like it?” Since she is not leaving, I walk to the door and open it wide. “Can you leave now?” I insist.

  If Mom came here just to apologize for her lack of manners, then it’s done, so I don’t see why she is not going away.

  “Janine made a soup for you,” she says very quietly.

  But I reply just as fast, “I’ll eat later on.”

  Mom hesitates for a second, but finally paces slowly in my direction, her posture composed and straight like always. Still consumed in her thoughts, she opens her mouth, but no words come out. Then, as she stands in front of me, she tries to stroke my cheek with her hand, but I move back before she can do so.

  I pick up a brush and focus my attention once again on the canvas. “You may close the door behind you, please.”

  I don’t know if she is still looking at me or not, but I hear her say in a whisper, “I love you,” and the door finally closes.

  Chapter 29

  Manhattan, October 20, 2020

  Petra Van Gatt

  “It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!” I shout, running down the staircase. Then I reach the hallway and go straight to the living room, where I see the Christmas tree standing beside the fireplace, covered with snow, stylishly ornamented with white and gold baubles, and gleaming with gold-colored lights. As my eyes drift down to the bottom, I see the floor covered with innumerable gifts, wrapped in gold-, white-, and silver-toned paper. My excitement is pounding hard in my chest, and I clap my hands, in a hurry to open them all. “Dad! Alex!” I call, but in vain. They must be in the library—they always take their coffee there. I go back into the hallway, knock on the library door, and, after hearing a quick “Come in,” I turn the handle and open the door wide. My smile turns into a grin as I find my godfather sitting on the sofa. Without waiting any longer, I trot in his direction and pull on his wrist. “Let’s go! Santa came already!”

  “Petra, you can say at least good morning,” Dad rebukes.

  “Good morning,” I mumble, continuing to pull on Alex’s wrist.

  Alex lets a quick laugh escape. “Good morning, Miss Van Gatt. Did you sleep well?” His voice has always been so warm and caring that it makes me feel special each time I hear it. It’s very different from Dad’s, which is usually cold and stern, even when I’m well-behaved and do nothing wrong.

  Nodding at his question, I see that he is finally standing up, and I grin in triumph. “Roy, let’s go,” he says, giving my dad a quick pat on the arm.

  “Will be there in a minute,” Dad mumbles briefly, his eyes glued to his phone. The usual reply.

  Alex takes my hand, and I lead him out of the library and into the living room. Once there, we stand still in the entryway, admiring the Christmas tree. “Look!” I point my index finger at the presents on the floor.

  “Wow,” he utters in admiration. “So many!”

  I giggle, clapping my hands with excitement, before running toward the tree. Then I sit on the floor and take the first package. But I wait for Alex to sit beside me before starting to tear off the wrapping paper. Once he does so, I look behind me toward the doorway, but I don’t see Dad coming. Shrugging my shoulders, I decide to open the present anyway. “Wow!” I shout, recognizing the wooden paint box I had seen at the store.

  “Is that the one you wanted?”

  I nod vigorously, totally mute as I open the box and find a complete set of oil tubes, brushes, and a palette.

  “Now you are officially a painter.” Alex’s joyful expression brings a wave of emotion through me, and as he strokes the back of my head, I open my arms and embrace him tightly.

  “Thank you,” I mumble as I rest my head on his shoulder. It was the best decision to instruct Alex to hand my letter to Santa personally. I’ve heard stories of parents who never delivered their kids’ letters to Santa because they were too busy, so of course the kids didn’t receive the gifts they wanted. To make sure I’d receive mine, I gave it to Alex, and I also showed him the gifts I wanted in a shop to make sure he understood the importance of his mission. “It’s exactly the box I wanted.”

  His gaze goes to the doorway, most likely waiting for Dad to join us. After seeing no one there, he gives me a quick peck on the head and stands up. “Let me check on your dad.”

  Blowing out a breath, I watch Alex leave the room with some sadness in my eyes and my lips twitching in displeasure. Not knowing how long I should wait, I start counting out loud the oil tubes in my box. One, two, three, four, five, six…Then I look again at the doorway, but there is still no one there. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen… I take another quick glance, but still nothing. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen… There are seventeen oil tubes and no one around to share the news with.

  “Alex?” I call, my eyes on the doorway. When no one replies, I repeat, louder this time, “Alex?”

  My eyes open wide, as I wake up with a jump. Jeez, childhood memories are haunting me again. I briefly check the alarm and see it’s six a.m. I think twice about taking another pill to sleep, but I better not. In three hours, I have Public Economics with Matthew and the group, so shutting my eyes, I remain lying in bed, ruminating… It’s so strange how those memories with Alex are so vivid in my sleep. I didn’t even remember that I’d given him a letter for Santa… I chuckle thinking about it. Then, I wonder if we’ll still manage to get married on the fifth of December. One thing is for sure: if we do, then this year will be our first Christmas as a married couple. The thought of it brings me joy and warms up my heart. Despite living with the most horrendous parents, it’s better to fill my mind with positivity and hope.

  But two hours later, it’s not Janine who walks in my bedroom with the intention of waking me up. Nope. I recognize her steps and her morning ritual by heart. As I turn the light on and prop myself up on my elbows, I see to my greatest despair that it’s Mom.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Mom startles at the sound of my voice and stands still in the middle of my room. “I, um, I just wanted to wake you up…”

  “I’m not a child, Mom! You don’t come in my room without permission,” I rebuke. “Only Janine can come in.” Since Mom doesn’t say a word, I add, “Even Dad knows that!”

  “Alright, I’m sorry.” She doesn’t seem sorry though, just annoyed. “Um, do you have any plans for lunch? Maybe we could—”

  “I have plans for lunch, yes.” I
can’t believe after everything she’s done to me, she still believes I want to hang out with her. “Can you leave me alone, please?”

  Mom doesn’t hide her disappointment, and her gaze falls to the floor as she thinks something through. Then she looks up at me again and tries to smile faintly, without much success. “Alright, um, have a great day. If you need anything, just let me know.” And she mercifully leaves my bedroom.

  Once the class is over, and not knowing if Mom is still here in the house or not, I decide to invite Matthew to have lunch with me at the same Japanese restaurant he invited me to last time. I’m not sure if we will have a table, since I didn’t have time to make a reservation, but I hope they will recognize us and make an exception.

  As Matthew and I leave the building, I see a woman smiling at me, blonde hair brushing her shoulders, Hermès purse hanging on her arm, wearing a gray coat and heels.

  “Mom?” I forgot that this is my new reality now—stumbling upon my Mom when I least expect it.

  “Hey,” Matthew greets her with a warm smile. “So nice that your Mom’s here.”

  “Fantastic…” I mumble as she slowly walks in our direction. Since it’s the first time they’ve met each other, I make some basic introductions. “Mom, Matthew. Matthew, my mom.”

  “I’m Tess Hagen.” Mom gives him a big grin and holds out a hand to shake his. “Petra has spoken fondly about you.”

  “Mom…” I rebuke just as fast.

  But Matthew remains just as excited. “Ms. Hagen, it’s such an honor to finally meet you. Welcome to New York.”

  Oh jeez, I can’t help but roll my eyes at these two. And before this gets any weirder, I ask her, “What are you doing here?”

  Mom simply gives me her sugary smile and says, “I’m taking you both to lunch.” Did she ask me if I wanted to? Of course not. Why bother?

  “We’ve got other plans, sorry.” As I start walking, I notice that Matthew hasn’t moved a foot. “Matthew?”

  “We can invite your mom. It’s alright, you know.”

  As I don’t look very enthusiastic, Mom says, “We haven’t had one single meal together. I thought maybe we could go somewhere, the three of us.” Her tone is sweet and pitiful, but I’m used to it. I remain staring at her with total indifference. “Very well, guess I should keep going.” Yeah, you should. She takes her iPhone from her purse and starts doing something on it. Probably booking a driver or something.

  “C’mon,” Matthew insists in a low voice. “She came all the way from Rotterdam for you.”

  Leaning toward his ear, I say, “She is evil personified on earth.”

  “Trust me, there is worse than her.” I huff instantly at his words. If he only knew… “Ms. Hagen, there is no need,” Matthew starts. “Petra and I would love to have you join us for lunch.” Liar.

  Mom gives him her usual enthusiastic smile, although she knows perfectly well that’s not true. No wonder she’s into politics—she can play with people’s emotions like no one else. “How kind you are,” she praises. “Do you have any place in mind?”

  Matthew doesn’t. I know him well. Until this year, he used to only eat at the canteen, and except for our lunch at Franchia Vegan Café, he normally eats either at my home or his. “Um, Petra?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “I’m thinking Japanese.” I know she hates it.

  “Perfect. Do we need a car?”

  “I’ve got mine,” Matthew replies.

  I instantly furrow my brows. “You drive?”

  “Yep, sometimes.” He then puts a hand on my lower back, leaning toward me. “Mainly if it’s to take you to lunch.” I can’t help but shake my head in total disbelief. Matthew driving my mother and me to lunch. What world am I living in?

  Damn, a few months ago, it would’ve been Alex who would be taking me somewhere. He’d greet me with a kiss, open the rear door to invite me in, and once inside, he’d remove my panties, unzip his pants, and—

  “Petra?” My mom’s voice brings me back to earth, and my heart tightens because those memories are nothing but distant ones, belonging to a reality I’m no longer certain I’ll experience again. Jeez, incredible how life can change with the snap of a finger. “Shall we?”

  After stepping into Franchia Vegan Café, I tell the waiter we want to have a quick lunch as we have class starting soon. Fortunately, he seems to be a young college student too, so he nods in understanding and ushers us to a table, handing us three menus.

  “I’ll be right back,” he tells us.

  Good.

  I sit in front of Matthew, with my mother beside us.

  After a few moments checking out our menus, I feel a hand stroking my arm. Looking up, I see Mom smiling at me as she does so. “I’m so glad to be here,” she whispers.

  “I’m going to have the vegan sushi plate,” I say, my attention shifting to Matthew. “And you?”

  “Uh?” he mumbles, his eyes still glued on the menu.

  “Matthew?” I call again. “Have you decided yet?”

  “Not really.”

  I start shaking a leg impatiently under the table.

  “Relax. I’m sure you will be on time.” Mom is putting on her sweet, innocent tone today.

  Doesn’t she realize I’m impatient to leave her presence? “I have three books to read and a dissertation to give next Monday,” I lie, but the truth will only create a cold and unpleasant atmosphere, and we have just arrived.

  “What is it about?” And she keeps her mellow voice going.

  Does it matter? But instead, I say, “How to respond in a financial crisis.”

  Mom nods, and as she feigns interest in my studies, she asks, “Are you managing to get back on track after all the classes you missed?”

  “More or less,” I tell her. “But Matthew and the group are helping a lot.”

  “Don’t forget, after class you have your appointment with Dr. Nel.” And I roll my eyes upon hearing her name. “Would you like me to take you there?” she asks, putting on her most caring expression.

  “Anthony will do it.” My stern voice has finally rendered Mom speechless. She lowers her gaze, looking absently at her menu, and after a beat of a silence, she stands up.

  “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as she leaves our sight, Matthew puts down his menu and leans forward. “Why are you so cold with her?” he spits out. “She seems like the sweetest mom ever.”

  I huff at his words. “You don’t know her. Believe me, she’s malicious as a snake.”

  “Why? Just because she’s against your relationship with that old dude?” What the heck? My jaw drops instantly at his vulgarity. “If I had a daughter, I’d do the same. Your godfather is fucking creepy. Glad your parents stepped in.”

  I lean over and snap, “That ‘old dude,’ as you put it, is my fiancé.”

  “Was your fiancé,” Matthew replies back, glancing at my left hand.

  And I’m not sure what is more offensive—the fact that he believes a ring is the deciding factor for my being engaged, or that he’s siding with the woman who has made my life a living hell. Jeez, I can’t believe I supported him when he became vegan, only for him to become a total jerk again. One thing is for sure: if there was an award for the most awkward lunch ever, this one would certainly be the winner.

  Mercifully, the waiter steps in and asks, “Are you ready to order?”

  Taking a deep breath, I say, “I will have the beans.”

  Matthew creases his brow at my answer. “You don’t want the vegan sushi?”

  “I’m no longer hungry. Beans are enough.”

  After the most pathetic lunch ever, Matthew insists on dropping me and Mom off at home. The fact that I have to share the same car as her twice is already bad enough, but as we get into the lobby of our building, Mom truly believes I’ll also share the same elevator. Wrong.

  As the doors of the first one open wide, I gesture for her to step inside. “You go first,” I instruct with a fake smi
le.

  After Mom does so, I press the button for PH and get out of the elevator just as fast. “We can share the same elevator, you know.”

  “I know,” I tell her as I watch victoriously the doors close before me. A small victory, but still a victory. I take the other elevator on my right and enjoy a few seconds of peaceful solitude before it takes me to the highest floor.

  As I step out, I don’t see Mom around, but I do find one of the bodyguards standing beside the front door of the apartment. What on earth?

  “You gonna stand here all day long?” I ask him, despite his stoic expression staring past me at nothing.

  “Yes, Miss,” he finally answers.

  The more I think about it, the more I understand why—he wants to make sure I don’t leave the house on my own, without my parents’ permission. This is like a real prison after all, and he is the guard.

  “You know I have to leave at five for my appointment with Dr. Nel, right?”

  “Yes, Miss.” He never looks me in the eye though; like a soldier in the army, he keeps his stare just past my shoulder. And as I step inside the entryway of my house, I wonder how long I’ll remain a prisoner for. Heck, even prisoners know how long they will stay in prison. I mean, at least some of them do.

  At five p.m, I receive a call from Anthony letting me know he’s outside waiting for me. As I step out of the library, I pray I don’t see Mom around to wish me a good session with Dr. Nel. Yeah, she’d be capable of saying something that stupid. I rush out of the house and see the bodyguard still standing in the hallway. Doesn’t he get tired of standing there all day long? I brush away those thoughts, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that my freedom is extremely restricted. On my way to the appointment, I put my AirPods in and listen to a pretty gloomy playlist, but I can’t help it. It’s such a horrible feeling, knowing your every move is being watched and you’re just a little rat inside a cage, not able to break free. All of a sudden, I receive a text from Emma, and a smile spreads across my face as I read it. Hey babe, how are you? It’d be great to meet up before I leave. Can I come by later on?