Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Paolo’s always been perfectly fine for my mom other than jetting her around the world and away from me. He sits as soon as the chair is delivered.
I set aside my hurt feelings, and tell her, “It’s good to see you.”
Pushing her blond hair with caramel highlights over her shoulder. It’s sprayed stiff, but she still looks beautiful and caught every pair of eyes when she walked in with her pale purple YSL fitted dress showing off her figure. She smiles at me. “I didn’t know if you’d show up.”
“If it’s the only chance I have to see you, I would say I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Why do we fight, Marlow? I hate it. What can we do to mend this relationship?”
“I was thinking the same thing. I hate the animosity I feel toward—”
Surprise takes over her expression. “Animosity? Why would you feel animosity? You’ve always been spoiled, Marlow. Your father did that to you. Set you up to expect people to bow at your whim.” She leans forward, and I catch a hint of cigarettes on her breath. She told me she had given up smoking years ago. “I didn’t spoil. I gave you a mother who chose to be independent. You should be proud. If anyone has a right to be upset, it’s me. You almost ended my career when my figure was wrecked to give you the breath of life.”
The drinks are delivered, but the momentary distraction from her dramatics doesn’t disguise the reality presenting itself before my very eyes. It doesn’t matter what she wears or what color she dyes her hair. The flavor of the day accent she’s choosing, or even if she would have come alone. I will never be anything more than a burden to her.
She will never change.
“Tell her how you feel.” I hear Jackson in my head. “You have nothing to lose.”
“I used to think we fought because we were too alike. That’s what Dad told me. But that’s not true, is it, Talia?” The other name has become too much to bear at the moment in spite of my strength.
“Your father never understood me, so what does he know?”
“It’s what I know, and that’s the truth. We can’t be more different. I love you, Mom. I always will, but I don’t need you in my life. Not right now.” Holding my hand up, I continue, “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I know the feeling is mutual, and that’s all right because I like who I am. My boyfriend loves me, every pound and flaw, and thinks I’m beautiful and sexy. It’s not all the compliments he showers on me. It’s the way he looks at me. Those looks, day by day, have started to erase the damage you did to my self-esteem.”
She sips champagne like she’s watching a play for entertainment. Paolo, at least, has the emotional capacity to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
My throat goes dry despite feeling ready for this. Lay it all out, I tell myself. “I already lost my job this morning, and I suppose I’m losing you as well. For now, this is how it needs to be. It’s not forever. I hope. But our relationship, in the current stage it’s in, is not healthy for me.” I grab my purse, still holding tight to who I am and knowing my friends were always my family and they loved me.
“Are you finished?” she asks, staring at me.
“No. Order the fries. They were excellent with champagne.”
Standing, I shift out from behind the table and come around to give her a side hug since that’s all I’m given access to. “I love you, Mom. Text me next time you’re in the city. Maybe we can try again.”
“Marlow?”
“Oh, and send me a postcard when you think of me. Safe travels.” Walking out, I have to say, I don’t feel loss or the pain I felt earlier. I feel we have an opportunity to start again when we’re both in a better place.
In the back of the car, I smile all the way home.
Home.
The sweetest word that ever existed.
25
Jackson
Fuck me.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and then rub, hoping to alleviate some of the tension causing my headache. “How am I liable?” I ask, holding the phone to my ear while I pace my home office. “I can’t make the market open on a Saturday because he dropped millions on a stock that I would have never advised him to invest in. I’m not his broker or his advisor. I haven’t been for more than a year.”
From the other end of the line, Andrew says, “The lawsuit came as a surprise, Jackson. We haven’t had time to read through it, but Nick and I just got to the office to look in the securities files. We’re hoping this is a case of someone getting the facts wrong, but I don’t have that answer at this time.”