Chapter 87

Cecilia

The mall was already crowded by the time I arrived, the kind of mid-morning bustle that came with holiday shopping and people who'd decided to take advantage of their day off.

I spotted Alice immediately—she was standing near the fountain in the main atrium, scrolling through her phone, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail that somehow looked effortlessly chic.

"Ceci!" She looked up as I approached, her face lighting up with genuine pleasure. "Oh my god, you're actually here. I was half-convinced Arthur would lock you in the apartment."

I laughed despite myself, pulling her into a one-armed hug. "He tried. I had to practically bribe my way out."

"Bribe him with what?" Alice pulled back, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Future considerations," I said vaguely, and she burst out laughing.

"I don't need details," she said, linking her arm through mine. "Come on. I saw this boutique on the third floor that looked amazing."

"Lead the way."

We fell into an easy rhythm, moving from store to store with the kind of aimless purpose that made shopping trips fun.

Alice tried on a ridiculous hat that made her look like she was going to a Kentucky Derby party, and I found a dress that was absolutely impractical but made me feel like I could conquer the world.

"You have to get that," Alice said, watching me turn in front of the mirror. "Arthur's going to lose his mind when he sees you in it."

"That's the plan," I admitted, and she grinned.

We were debating whether to stop for coffee when I saw them.

My mother and Irene Winston, walking arm-in-arm through the main corridor like they were old friends, their heads bent together in conversation, both of them smiling in a way that made something cold settle in my stomach.

I stopped walking so abruptly that Alice nearly tripped.

"Ceci? What's—" She followed my gaze and went still. "Is that… Mrs. Winston? And who’s beside her…"

I couldn't answer. I was too busy trying to process what I was seeing—How could my mother be hanging around with Irene Winston?

As if sensing my stare, my mother looked up. Her eyes found mine across the crowded mall, and her expression shifted into something that looked like surprise but felt calculated.

"Cecilia!" She disengaged from Irene and made her way toward us, her movements graceful and practiced. "Darling, what a wonderful surprise! I was just thinking about you."

"Mom." The word came out flat, and I saw her smile falter slightly before she recovered.

"I've been meaning to visit you," she continued, reaching out to touch my arm in a gesture that was probably meant to seem maternal. "But I realized last time that I forgot to get your address. And your phone number—I don't think I have your new number, do I?"

I stared at her.

Alice, bless her, stepped forward with her hand extended. "Hi, I'm Alice. Cecilia's best friend."

"How lovely." My mother shook her hand with that particular smile she reserved for people she considered beneath her notice. "I'm Evelyn Gray."

Gray. Not Locke. That’s the surname she took after remarrying in Europe—whatever that was. Just... Gray.

Before I say anything, Irene had joined us, her expression cool and assessing as she looked between my mother and me.

"Cecilia," she said, her voice perfectly polite. "What a coincidence."

"Mrs. Winston." I kept my tone neutral, professional. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I could say the same." Her eyes dropped to my hands, specifically to the engagement ring Arthur had given me. "Though I suppose I should start getting used to running into you in unexpected places."

There was something in her tone that made my spine straighten, but before I could respond, my mother spoke up.

"Oh, how rude of me! Cecilia, this is Irene Winston—we met quite by chance earlier this morning. Isn't that funny? Two women, both just trying to escape the boredom of being home alone, and we ended up bonding over our shared love of window shopping."

The explanation was too smooth, too practiced. I looked at Irene, who was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

"Actually," Irene said, her voice taking on a warmer quality that felt even more dangerous than her usual coolness, "I know Cecilia quite well. She's my son's girlfriend." She paused, her gaze dropping again to my ring. "Or perhaps fiancée now would be more accurate?"

"Fiancée," I confirmed, lifting my chin slightly. "Arthur proposed."

Mother looked surprised and said to Irene, "I never expected Cecilia’s fiancé to be your son. What a coincidence we have."

Irene smiled, saying nothing in reply.

My mother reached for my hands. "You'll have to give me your address and phone number," my mother continued, as if we'd just been discussing the weather. "I'd love to visit properly. Maybe bring you a housewarming gift? Or an engagement gift? Both?"

The last thing I wanted was my mother showing up at our apartment, but Alice was watching me with concern, and Irene was still standing there with that cool, assessing expression, and I felt trapped.

"We're in the Tribeca building," I said finally, and gave her my phone number at the same time.

"Perfect!" My mother squeezed my arm. "I'll stop by soon, I promise. But right now, Irene and I really must finish our shopping—we've barely made a dent in our list, have we?"

"Barely," Irene agreed, though her eyes never left my face. "Cecilia, please give Arthur my regards."

"Of course."

They left, arms linked again, their heads bent together in conversation that I couldn't hear but could imagine all too well.

Alice waited until they were out of sight before turning to me, her expression a mixture of concern and confusion. "Ceci, what the hell was that?"

"I don't know." I felt cold despite the warm mall air, my mind racing through possibilities I didn't want to consider. "But something's wrong."

"Your mom and Arthur's mom just randomly met this morning and became best friends?" Alice's voice was skeptical. "That's... that's not normal, right?"

"Nothing about my mother is normal." I forced myself to take a breath, to push down the anxiety that was threatening to overwhelm me. "But there's nothing I can do about it right now, so let's just—let's keep shopping."

Alice studied me for a moment longer, then nodded and linked her arm through mine again. "Alright. Then let's go find you some ridiculously impractical shoes to go with that dress."

I smiled, grateful for her understanding, and let her pull me toward the nearest store.

But even as we browsed and laughed and tried on clothes neither of us needed, I couldn't shake the image of my mother and Irene Winston, arm-in-arm. That’s really strange.