I don’t know what else to say, staring down at the paper bag in my arms.
She pats my cheek gently. “You should take care of yourself, too, Natalie. I have a feeling that you’re also a workaholic like my son.”
I flush with guilty recognition. “A lot of people depend on me.”
“And who do you depend on?”
Her question leaves me speechless.
“I’msorry about slapping you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
It’s been twenty minutes since we got in the car, and Ethan hasn’t said a word to me.
After a moment, he murmurs, “It’s fine. You didn’t leave a mark.”
I glance at his cheek and he’s right. However, I still feel guilty about my loss of control.
Commenting further will just drag the situation out, and I want to do anything but. So I choose to remain silent. Instead, I ponder over Helen’s question to me.
Who do I depend on?
I have friends. I depend on them. I have Sarah. Iris is getting to be a good friend as well.
Aside from that, do I really have anybody else?
I’ve always thrown myself into my work to hide from the realities of life. I don’t think I’ve ever gone to my mother with a problem. I don’t think I’m even allowed to do so. I used to worship the ground Lucas walked on, but now when I think back, he never really listened to my problems. He would always pat me on the head and send me away. But back then, I craved approval and love from someone so desperately that even that much was enough for me.
I gaze out the window at the New York City streets rushing past, my chest tightening with a familiar ache.
Today I realized how lonely I truly am. Surrounded by the loud Wilder family, watching them tease, laugh, and fight with each other, it showed me the stark contrast that is my life.
Am I really so alone?
I work on the weekends because I don’t have friends to hang out with. If I want to go to the movies, I go alone. I eat dinner alone. Aside from my work, what do I really have?
I press my lips together, feeling my eyes burn with unbidden tears. Attempting to blink them away, I clear my throat. “Your family is nice.”
“Nice?” Ethan echoes in disbelief. “I wouldn’t use that word to describe them. They’re an unruly bunch.”
I can’t help but scoff, smiling through my tears. “Or maybeyou’re the odd one out. I really don’t see how you’re related to them. I thought your mother was a socialite, though.”
“She is.”
When I don’t say anything further, he glances at me with curiosity. “You’re thinking she’s not like the other socialites you’ve met over the course of your career.”
“I’ve hardly met any,” I shrug.
“Of course you have.” Ethan turns his attention back to the road. “Braxton was known for throwing grand events.” Ethan turns his attention back to the road. “My mother knows how to act like them, but she’s always preferred focusing on her family and her gardening. She was always a hands-on parent. My father was pretty much the same. They like their luxury, but once you look past it, she’s pretty normal.”
“She’s very obsessed with your love life,” I comment dryly.
“I don’t date as much as she would like.”
“According to her, you don’t date at all.”
Ethan moves his shoulders in a casual gesture. “Maybe.”
“She also says you’ve never brought a girl home.”
