“Don’t, okay?” It came out harsher than I’d meant it. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s embarrassing,” she hissed. “I don’t know what to say to people when they ask.”

I blinked, my voice hardening. “Well, you tell them Ravenel Tate is a misogynistic asshole, and your darling daughter couldn’t work there anymore.”

My mother gasped. “Josie—”

“I’m kidding,” I said, annoyance in my tone. “Not about what he is, but that you should say that.” My throat closed up on the last few words. It wasn’t that I was homesick necessarily.

“That’s not funny, young lady.”

I blew out a breath and squeezed my eyes closed against the slight pricking. It was not homesickness, it was simply that I suddenly felt very far from home. Xavier Pascale’s coldness had me feeling adrift. And like I’d mentioned to Xavier about his father, there was something about talking to my mom that made me feel twelve years old again. We reverted to old patterns. It was partly comforting. It also drove me nuts.

I rolled my eyes. “No. You’re right. It’s not. Because it’s true. Anyway, why do you have to discuss me?”

“Because you’re my daughter, and I’m proud of all you’ve accomplished.” Her tone suggested an unfinished thought.

“But?”

“But I don’t understand why you had to run away. That’s not what we do, Josephine. You didn’t see me running away from Charleston when your father died. Nor when all that unpleasantness with Nicolas happened.”

I snorted at her word choice. Unpleasantness?

“No,” she went on. “We stay. We look people in the eye, and we hold our heads up high.”

I tore at tiny piece of dry skin next to my nail. Was that what I’d done? Run away when things got tough?

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you haven’t even mentioned your boss.”

I licked my lips. “What about him?”

“Josephine.”

“Mother,” I shot back.

She let out a sigh. “I’ve seen pictures of him, you know?”

“I’m—it’s going to be okay.” I dismissed her mention of him. “It’s fine to think of this as an extended vacation, all right? That’s what it is. I’m not throwing in my degree to become a professional nanny.”

“Okay. I just miss you.” Her voice wobbled.

I squeezed my eyes closed. “I miss you, too. Hey. Can you wrap your arms around yourself and squeeze? That’s me hugging you. Everything’s going to be all right. Listen, I have to go. I love you.”

We said goodbye and hung up. I stared at the phone. I didn’t need to go anywhere, but talking to my mom hadn’t made me feel better at all.