Anyone But the Superstar (Anyone But You #3)

Chapter 24

24

LIZ

‘Who did Daddy punch?’

Mary’s question breaks through the strangely comfortable silence that my family has kept after Felix went full douchebag and Thomas went full Fight Club .

Bell, part of the protective sequined cat cocoon hugging me, breaks off to answer my nine-year-old niece playing Barbies on the floor nearby. ‘I’m pretty sure that was a movie star.’

‘No shit?’ Chase is the next to step back, Bell slapping his arm.

‘Don’t curse in front of your niece.’

‘It’s OK, Aunt Bell.’ Mary lowers the astronaut Barbie while keeping Prince Charming Ken upright. ‘Daddy says I should only listen to half of what Uncle Chase says—’ she moves Ken as she talks, as if he’s the one saying it ‘—and repeat none of it.’

Thomas winks at his daughter, looking smug.

Chase shrugs. ‘That’s pretty sound advice, actually.’

‘Thomas.’ Alice tilts her head back to look at her husband. ‘Did you know that was a celebrity when you punched him?’

His smile flattens. ‘No. ’

‘I see.’ She tilts her head. ‘And now that you have punched him, and in front of our daughter no less, are you feeling any kind of remorse or regret?’

The only change in his expression is a slight flare to his nostrils. ‘Only that I didn’t hit him harder.’

‘Damn, T-money.’ Chase claps Thomas on the back. ‘That’s so gangster of you.’

Alice, probably attempting to look disappointed, rolls her lips. ‘Well then, I’m sure the ensuing lawsuit won’t feel quite so challenging as long as you have no regrets.’

‘If he’s going to sue anyone,’ I manage without tears, my voice raw, ‘he’ll probably sue me.’ Especially as Felix’s lawyer-slash-manager arrived in time to pull his client out of the condo and away from Thomas’ fists.

Sinking onto the sofa, I jerk my head at Mary and pat the cushion next to me.

Taking her cue, and her Barbies, Mary saddles up next to me, Mother taking the other side.

As if gathering around for a bedtime story, Chase drags two kitchen stools into the living room for himself and Bell. Thomas sits on the chair with Alice perching on the armrest beside him.

Mike Hunt and King Dick Moore cuddle in the sunlight.

‘So.’ Wrapping one arm around Mary and resting the other on my mom’s knee, I take a deep breath to clear the remnants of my emotional tsunami. ‘In the past year, I have gained enough credits to graduate with a master’s in digital art, become a certified yoga instructor, taken an internship as a storyboarder, fallen in love with a movie star and found out I have a half-sister.’ I look around the room, meeting everyone’s shocked eyes before asking, ‘What would you like to hear about first?’

‘Hey Mom?’

Having shocked my family – or most of my family – with the reason why I came to Houston and all that’s happened since I got here, I was persuaded to pack up and leave the condo.

A good choice seeing as the paparazzi are now swarming the building and I hadn’t wanted to stay anywhere that reminded me of douchebag Felix.

Mom, unpacking her Louis Vuitton roller bag into The Post Oak Hotel’s three-bedroom suite dresser, turns to me. ‘Yes, dear?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me about my dad earlier?’

I know about my half-sister because my mom told me about her and who my real father was after my brothers discovered that the man who raised me used my illegitimacy as a reason to steal my inheritance. But I never asked any questions afterwards, too busy reeling from the news.

Now, having purged myself both emotionally and verbally, I sit cross-legged on the bed feeling strong enough to hear the answers I’ve spent the past year running from.

I tilt my head up to hers. ‘About who my real dad was, I mean?’

She sighs, her gaze fixed on the perfectly folded clothes she places in the drawer. ‘I want to make something crystal clear before I begin.’ Closing the drawer, she faces me, holding my eyes until I register her conviction before continuing. ‘When I say the affair was a mistake, I am in no way referring to you .’ She moves forward, sinking elegantly onto the foot of the bed. ‘You are one of the very best and most precious things in my life and I wouldn’t change anything if it meant not having you.’

Swallowing back more tears, I nod.

Sighing, she smooths her hand across the bedspread. ‘Believe it or not, your fath—I mean, Stanley and I used to get along.’

I do find that hard to believe, but I keep that to myself .

‘And when things got rocky between us, I should’ve fought for our marriage instead of ignoring my problems.’ She smiles sadly. ‘I wasn’t as brave as you.’

‘Me?’ I sit up on my elbow. ‘Brave?’

‘Oh yes.’ Her smile deepens. ‘I’ve always looked at you in awe as you sat at the dinner table, fighting your entire childhood for our family to get along. I was amazed by how you were mature enough to hold back but brave enough to move forward at just the right times.’ She stretches her hand out, capturing mine and squeezing it. ‘And when you set off for a whole year without the security of the Moore name or your inheritance behind you and still managed to blossom into the capable, strong woman you are…’

Her pink lips twist to the side. ‘Your brothers thought I didn’t want them chasing after you because I felt guilty.’ She tilts her head as if considering. ‘And maybe there’s some truth to that.’ She squeezes my hand again. ‘But I also wanted to give you space. Not because it was the easy thing to do, because it was most definitely the hardest, but because I respected your choice to leave, the choice I could never make.’ She lets go, lines creasing her normally smooth forehead. ‘Even though it killed me not to talk to you. Not to explain.’

I scoot forward, retaking her hand, waiting for her to continue.

But just when I think she’s said as much as she can, she clears her throat with a delicate cough. ‘I met your father, your real father, after I finished hosting a charity luncheon. One of the many charity lunches I kept myself busy with once I became aware of Stanley’s affairs.’ Her sigh is half self-recrimination, half weary acceptance. ‘I was sitting in the hotel bar when he came in, looking handsome but a little unkempt with his tie hanging crooked and his hair windswept and uncombed.’ A small, wistful smile plays on her lips. ‘He was so unlike the men I grew up with. So passionate and real.’

I’m shocked by how young my mother looks remembering the moment. Her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed.

‘Though he had only stopped in the bar to wait for his room to be ready, we ended up spending the whole afternoon talking. He was in New York on business, his first trip away from his daughter after his wife had passed away from cancer two years earlier.’

I flinch, pained by the idea of the sister I never knew losing her mother so young.

‘And after we talked…’ Mom’s slim shoulders lift, unable to say the words. ‘And later, when I realized I was pregnant with you, I chose to pretend he and I never happened. To keep living the life of Eleanor Moore, wife of Stanley Winston Moore, head of one of the most prominent families in New York, if not the country.’ The lines deepen between her brows. ‘I told myself that it was all for the best, but I never asked myself who it was the best for.’ Her eyes, now watery, meet mine. ‘And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. I’m sorry for so many things.’

Slipping my hand out of hers, I scramble to my knees and hug my mom.

Squeezing me tight, she whispers in my ear, ‘I love you and I’m of proud of you, and I’m so happy that you’re my daughter. You’re everything I always wished I could be, and you did that all on your own.’

Head on her shoulder, I let the minutes tick by as I play with the soft cashmere fabric of her cardigan. Because of course Eleanor Moore wears cashmere even in the humid hell of south-east Texas.

‘I’m not sure if I’m really all that you think I am, Mom.’ I bury my face in her sweater .

She leans back, holding my face to hers with both hands. ‘And why would you say that?’

‘Thomas is a brilliant businessman and Chase is a savvy investor, both of them not only running the family business, but making it more successful than it has been in years.’ I drop my eyes to her pearl necklace. ‘I’m just someone who can draw.’

‘First—’ she kisses both my cheeks before releasing me ‘—I want to say that I love all my children equally. However .’ She eyes me, looking every inch the socialite matron she is. ‘Thomas is a bit of a dick.’

I choke on my next breath.

‘And Chase, well, he’s ridiculous, really.’ She looks down at her t-shirt between her open cardigan, which, like Mary, is flipped half Mike Hunt, half King Dick Moore. ‘And he has been an unfortunate influence on you and your sense of humor.’

We share a smile.

‘So don’t think—’ Mom reaches up, brushing back the hair escaping from my ponytail ‘—that just because they have good business sense that they are somehow more successful or better than you.’

Her words reach a part of me that has been lame and wounded since I found out I didn’t share 100 per cent of my brothers’ DNA.

Mom’s lips press together, a slight twitch on one corner. ‘And I’d pay serious money to see either one of them try and make it a whole year without their inheritance. Because don’t forget, Thomas was handed the business simply by being born first. And Chase’s principal investment came from his inheritance, even though he paid it back with the profits.’ She cups my cheek once more. ‘ You , my dear sweet girl, walked away from all of that privilege to take on college loans and work part-time jobs, all so that you could be true to who you are and hone your extremely impressive artistic talent.’ She exhales a soft laugh. ‘Could you even imagine Thomas or Chase doing that?’

The question conjures up an image of Thomas and Chase leading one of my yoga classes, making me chuckle.

She laughs with me. ‘Thomas would’ve been fired for calling a customer an idiot.’

‘Oh my God.’ I laugh harder. ‘I can so see that.’

‘And Chase would’ve spent all his money on trying to impress women rather than pay off tuition bills.’ She pauses, thinking over what she said. ‘That’s if Bell wasn’t in the picture.’

‘Alice too?’ I ask, thinking of the softening effect she has on Thomas.

Mom dismissing that idea with a wave of her hand. ‘Even with Alice’s saintly influence, Thomas still calls people idiots.’ She heaves a long sigh, the sequins on her t-shirt catching the light. ‘George is forever earning his yearly bonuses by smoothing things over for him.’

I chuckle again thinking of Thomas’ long-suffering secretary.

Mom slips her arm around my shoulders. ‘So don’t ever think you are not as talented or as loved as your brothers.’ She pulls me in tight. ‘Because honestly,’ she whispers, ‘ you’re the most impressive.’

I squeeze her back. ‘Thanks, Mom.’

‘Yes, well.’ She retracts her arm, swiping her glossy polished fingers under her eyes. ‘What is not impressive is your plan to meet your sister.’

I wince at the hard truth.

‘It doesn’t seem like you planned anything, actually.’ She stands, smoothing down her pencil skirt that somehow looks classic and chic even with her two-faced cat sequined t-shirt peeking out from her cashmere cardigan. ‘It’s like you just showed up and hoped to run into her. ’

Meeting my mother’s less-than-dazzled gaze, I grimace. ‘I just thought if our meeting was random, if she and I just happened to meet, then she wouldn’t have time to—’ I sink into my shoulders ‘—I don’t know, be disappointed or upset, maybe?’

Mom holds my gaze, not an ounce of sympathy in hers. ‘Please tell me you are hearing how asinine that sounds now that you’ve said it out loud?’

I sigh, scooting forward on the bed until my feet drop to the floor and my head rests on her stomach. ‘Yes.’ Wrapping my arms around her, I mumble against her sequins. ‘I hear it.’

‘Good.’ Placing both hands on my shoulders, she waits until my eyes meet hers. ‘Then, shall I call your father?’ At my bewildered expression, she gives me a withering glare that rivals Thomas’. ‘No, not that asshat.’

Apparently, I’m not the only one Chase has been a bad influence on now that the ‘asshat’ Stanley Moore is no longer around.

The sunlight streaming in from the bedroom suite’s window highlights my mother’s pale-blonde hair. ‘I’m talking about your real father, Dr Gerald Howard Lee.’

Goosebumps appear at the name I’ve only read in the research I did after discovering my true parentage. ‘You—’ I grip my knees with my hands ‘—have his number?’

‘Yes.’ She straightens her pearl necklace. ‘I’ve never used it, but I’ve always made sure I had it.’ Hand still resting on her pearls, a mix of regret and guilt flit over my mother’s refined features. ‘I was waiting for you to decide how you wanted to tell them, or even if you wanted to, before I acted.’

‘Oh.’ The hollow spot Felix left in my chest warms. ‘Thanks, Mom.’

She opens her mouth, then pauses, as if second-guessing what she was about to say .

I purse my lips, wondering what else she has to surprise me with. ‘What?’

‘May I ask why you were so hell-bent on seeing your half-sister before seeing your father?’

I grimace, knowing the answer is going to make me seem lamer than my haphazard attempts to see my sister. ‘I, uh, just figured I seem to have more luck with siblings than fathers—’ I shrug, not meeting Mom’s eyes ‘—so, um, I thought Jackie the safer option.’

‘Please remember that Stanley Winston Moore is the exception, not the rule.’ She holds my gaze, her soft eyes looking harder than I ever remember seeing them. ‘That goes for all men. Because anyone worth anything would consider themselves the luckiest man alive to have you in their life.’

I nod, once more unable to talk, knowing full well she isn’t talking about either of my two dads anymore.