3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Juliette

"Kelsey?" I knocked softly on her door. She pulled her headphones off and dropped her phone. "Dinner is ready. Want to eat together?"

"Sure. I was just going over the choreography in my head."

"That's my girl." The moment I said it, I regretted the familiar phrase.

I said that to all my dancers when they succeeded. Now it felt hurtful while she hung in the balance between abandonment and paternity test results.

She smiled at me, anyway, following me cautiously to the kitchen.

I plated the meatballs above the spaghetti, a safe, universally loved meal. "Eat up, we have class in a few hours, and you want all these nutrients in you before we dance."

"Yes, Miss Juliette," she answered dryly.

"I know this is invasive, but who else knows about this?"

"Nobody."

Tense silence. I was exhausted by all this silence. I could go the rest of my life living on the keys of a piano that never stopped playing just to escape the brutal pain of silence. "You're entitled to your privacy, and it's probably best for now."

She snorted, "Yeah, so no nosey parents go calling CPS on us."

"You said it, not me." I gave her a look that matched her cynicism. Kelsey forked some food into her mouth. It was a good sign that she could eat. I was so anxious I could only manage to roll food around my plate and pick at the side salad.

"Well, nobody's called in the past fifteen years, so why would they now, ya know?" she chuckled humorlessly. This was the most we'd spoken since Saturday .

After a while of silent debate, I asked one of the many questions I had. "Why didn't you tell me your mom was going on vacation? I don't think it's legal for her to leave you alone like that."

Kelsey didn't look up from her plate. "She did it so many times."

"Since when?"

"I don't know. Maybe I was thirteen?" she shrugged.

In the past three days I learned that Kelsey was a fantastic liar. She knew exactly how old she was the first time her mother left her. She was covering for Erin, still. I couldn't blame her, but I had to wisen up quickly and find ways to entrap the truth.

I dropped that line of questioning for the time being.

"I'm sorry I never," I paused.

Never what? What Juliette? Never what?

"I feel like I should have known," I admittedly softly.

Kelsey fussed with the tendrils of hair that had fallen from her braid, tucking them back in. "It's not your fault. Nobody knows. The handful that do, look the other way."

"You're always welcome here. Whatever happens with the results, that room upstairs is yours."

"Do you think he's going to sign the papers if the results come back negative?"

"I wish I could predict what tomorrow will bring."

Kelsey rolled her eyes. "Why would anyone want a random teenager dumped on them?"

I opened my mouth to reply, grasping at words that slipped through my fingers. None of them quite right.

"Nevermind. It's fine. He seems rich enough with the Rolex and the sports car. I should be grateful he's not like some of the other guys Mom dated."

"His background check certainly put him at a much higher tax bracket than me."

"Even if it didn't, Mom left everything to him. Cushy fucking deal, right?" There was so much resentment in her tone that overshadowed the cursing. I had no choice but to agree and ignore the f-bomb .

Erin signed the deed to Kelsey's home over to Caleb. What a fucking idiot.

Kelsey was smart enough to know he could sell it tomorrow if he wanted to, leaving her homeless.

He wouldn't. What kind of monster would do that? He's not a monster.

The thought ached because I couldn't be sure. The assumption was made by the memory of his pained expression and resolute tone of voice. That, and the fact that he'd dropped his whole life in California the very next day after that first phone call to come to New York and… and what? Take his place?

I stopped the wave of resentment before it could wash away my good sense.

He hadn't known on Saturday that he was inheriting the property and bank accounts. I couldn't hate him for showing up for the monetary benefit. During the meeting, he was shocked to have inherited any of it.

I rolled a meatball across my plate, speared it, questioned whether I'd be able to swallow it at all.

How had Erin even done all this? Caleb's signature was forged on everything. We all ignored it because the lawyer told us to with a look that said he had goons somewhere that would rough us up for asking too many questions. He had purposely talked too fast for any of us to fully process what was happening in the moment.

"I didn't sign any of that," Caleb had said.

"Yes, you did," the lawyer replied, a single brow raised. "Your signature is right here."

"I don't want anything that's hers," Caleb said, face twisted in confusion, wise enough not to contest the signature out loud again.

"You can pass it on to Kelsey when she's eighteen."

Caleb and the lawyer shared a silent conversation with their facial expressions. "Write up the paperwork, then," Caleb replied calmly.

There was so much of that meeting that I still hadn't mulled over. It happened so fast that details like that one came back to me throughout the day, little flashes of memory that I couldn't quite trust were real. I'd sat there so hopelessly powerless to stop what was happening.

"Why didn't you tell me what was going on at home, Kelsey? I could have helped."

"I didn't need your help before," came her dark reply. "I came to you when I did."

We didn't speak again. Kelsey went back to her house to carpool with her best friend, Ana, so as not to attract any attention. She didn't speak at all during class, waited quietly for me to close up, and stayed that way on the drive home. I wouldn't count saying goodnight as a conversation. In the morning, she walked to her bus stop several blocks away, and I crawled back into bed with anxious tears streaming down the outer corners of my eyes while I stared at the ceiling.