Chapter 210
Summer's POV
A week later, I finally worked up the courage to introduce Kieran to Victoria properly. Not as "that boy from school" or "my physics tutor" or any of the other deflections I'd been using, but as my boyfriend.
I'd made reservations at Ostra, Victoria's favorite seafood restaurant in the Back Bay. Neutral territory. Expensive enough that she couldn't complain about the venue, casual enough that Kieran wouldn't feel completely out of place in his one good button-down shirt—the navy one I'd noticed him wearing to every formal occasion, always pressed carefully despite its slightly frayed collar.
It should have been fine. It was fine, on the surface.
Victoria arrived exactly on time, dressed in a cream silk blouse and tailored black pants, her Hayes & Co. tote bag hanging from her shoulder like a status symbol. She shook Kieran's hand with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, her grip firm and assessing in that way she had when evaluating potential business partners.
"So you're the young man Summer's been spending so much time with," she said, her voice pleasant and utterly unreadable.
"Yes, ma'am." Kieran's posture was perfect, his shoulders squared despite the tension I could feel radiating from him. "Thank you for inviting me."
"Of course. Any friend of Summer's is always welcome."
Friend. Not boyfriend. The word hung there between us like a challenge, and I felt my face flush hot with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. I opened my mouth to correct her, but Kieran's hand found mine under the table, his touch a gentle warning to let it go.
Dinner proceeded with painful politeness. Victoria asked Kieran about his classes, his plans for college, his family background—questions that would have seemed innocuous if not for the surgical precision with which she extracted information. He answered carefully, honestly, never volunteering more information than strictly necessary, and I watched him navigate her interrogation with the same methodical patience he applied to physics problems. I tried to fill the silences with cheerful chatter about school and music and anything that wasn't the elephant in the room, my voice coming out too bright, too eager, like I was trying to convince myself as much as her.
But something was off. Victoria was being too nice, too interested, too accommodating. She complimented Kieran's intelligence when he mentioned his USAPhO preparation. She praised his work ethic when he explained his schedule at The Happy Patty and the library. She even suggested he might benefit from meeting some of her contacts in the tech industry, since he was interested in physics, offering connections with the casual generosity of someone who knew exactly how valuable those connections were.
It should have been reassuring. Instead, it made my skin crawl with the same unease I'd felt before my piano competitions when Victoria would smile at the other mothers while mentally cataloging their daughters' weaknesses.
"Mom's being weird," I told Kieran later, as we walked along the Charles River Esplanade. The November air was crisp, and our breath made little clouds in the darkness, the city lights reflecting off the water in wavering lines of gold and white.
"She was perfectly polite," Kieran said, but his hand tightened around mine, his damaged right hand tucked into his jacket pocket where he always kept it when he was uncomfortable.
"Exactly. She's never perfectly polite. She's either genuinely warm or ice cold. This was something else." I squeezed his hand, trying to articulate the wrongness I'd felt throughout dinner. "It was like she was... performing. Like she'd already made up her mind about something and was just going through the motions."
"Maybe she's trying."
"Maybe." But I didn't believe it, and I could tell from the way his jaw tightened that he didn't either.
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The weeks that followed felt like walking on eggshells that never quite cracked. Victoria didn't forbid me from seeing Kieran—that would have been too obvious, too much like the controlling behavior she'd always prided herself on avoiding. Instead, she became subtly, persistently present in ways she hadn't been before.
She started scheduling more mother-daughter dinners, always on evenings when she knew I usually studied with Kieran. She volunteered to drive me to piano lessons and competitions, filling the car rides with pointed questions about my college applications and whether I'd given enough thought to schools with strong music programs. She invited Caroline Morgan and her mother to Hayes & Co. events, creating opportunities for me to network with the "right kind" of people, as if proximity to old money could somehow erase my relationship with a boy from Southie.
December brought my performance at the Winter Showcase, a prestigious event held at Symphony Hall where college recruiters and conservatory representatives came to scout talent. I played Rachmaninoff's Prelude, the piece that had carried me to the national title, and the familiar notes rang through the hall with a depth and confidence I hadn't possessed the first time I'd performed it. When I finished, the applause washed over me like a wave. Victoria was in the front row, beaming with pride, and for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe things would be okay.
But Kieran wasn't there. He'd had to work a double shift at The Happy Patty because Tony needed someone to cover for a sick cook, and even though I'd told him it was fine, that I understood, I couldn't help scanning the audience for his face during my bows, feeling the absence like a physical ache.
"You were magnificent," Victoria said afterward, pulling me into a rare hug. "That's my daughter. That's the Summer Hayes everyone needs to see."
The Summer Hayes everyone needs to see. Not just Summer. Not the girl who ate Pop-Tarts with her boyfriend in the library or who'd learned to find beauty in the quiet moments. The brand. The image. The carefully constructed version of myself that fit into Victoria's vision of success.
I smiled and thanked her and accepted congratulations from the conservatory representatives, but inside, something cold and hard was settling in my chest.