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“It doesn’t matter if she cares or not. They’ll crucify her. She doesn’t deserve it.” Seeing the way Marissa looked at Valerie and the venom in her words cut into me. Deeper than anything they’ve ever said to me. I can handle it.
Val shouldn’t have to. Definitely not for me.
“These girls out here are fierce.” Arny blows out a breath. “What do you want the card to say?”
I give him the best I can come up with. “I’m sorry.” I have to make the next word come out, forcing it free. “Goodbye.”
“Got it. They’ll be the prettiest break-up flowers you’ve ever seen.”
“I know they will be.” I thank him and hang up, determined to force myself back to life as I’ve known it.
Life as it was before Valerie came.
After sending a few emails concerning my business in London, I shove down a late lunch and grab my car keys. My mother only lives a few blocks away, making it a quick walk, but I’m feeling disinclined to show my face around town after the incident at the beach yesterday. The trek to her building takes almost as long to reach by car as it does by foot, but I’m still there in under ten minutes. I park in the underground garage and nod at the doorman before using my code to access the private lift that will take me to her penthouse.
The familiar scent of her perfume greets me as I step out onto the marble tile. A second later she appears, a wide smile on her face. “Good morning, my handsome son.” She pulls me into a hug and squeezes tight.
It’s impossible not to notice how thin she’s gotten as I gently embrace her. “Good morning, Mum. How are you feeling today?”
She lets out a sigh. “Exhausted. I believe I’ve finally managed to take on too much.” She gives me a smile. “You wouldn’t want to come work for your mother, would you?”
“I don’t think either of us really wants that.” I lean back and take in the bright colors of today’s caftan choice, my eyes narrowing on the pattern. “Are those pugs?”
Her smile widens. “It’s Mister Belvedere.” She pinches at either side of one of the dog faces printed on the deep green fabric and lifts it away from her body. “Doesn’t he look handsome?”
Sure enough, the photo repeated across the silky fabric is of my mother’s beloved pug. “I’m sure Geoffrey’s beside himself with jealousy.” My mother has taken to naming her dogs after sitcom butlers. So far she’s up to six, and it’s only a matter of time before another finds its way into her ever-growing pack.
“Who says I don’t have one with his face on it too?” She gives me a wink. “Would you like a drink, Darling?”
I follow her down the hall leading to the sitting room where she spends most of her day, recovering from the latest round of chemotherapy targeting the cancer that took both her breasts while dabbling in businesses I’m not sure need to be dabbled in.
Like pet-printed caftan manufacturing.
“I’m good.”
She spins to face me, the shock at my refusal clear as day on her still youthful face. “Are you well?”
“No, but I still don’t want a drink.” I scan the ornate furniture for a spot free of a lounging dog. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Her perfectly-penciled brows lift. “Oh?”
I finally manage to squeeze in beside Geoffrey the miniature pincher and Niles the black lab on the uncomfortable, but expensive, sofa. “Rogers backed out of the retail development in Cape Coral.” I cut right to the point. My mother isn’t one to mince words. Never has been. Probably the result of running a company while raising a son on her own. She didn’t have time to waste. And I’m starting to feel the same way. I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much already.
She slowly lowers to the armchair none of her dogs ever seem to occupy, cool blue gaze locked on me. “Well, that’s unfortunate.” She lifts the bell from the table beside her and gives it a single ring.
Seconds later her own butler, Nicholas, appears, wearing an apron made of the same fabric as my mother’s caftan. “Yes, my lady.”
My mother gives him a dazzling smile. “Nicholas, I think I would like a drink.”
He nods deeply. “Of course. What do you have in mind?”
My mother seems to ponder for a second before lifting her shoulders. “Surprise me.” Her gaze shifts to me then back to Nicholas. “But make it a strong one.”
“Happy to.” He gives me a nod before disappearing.
“That man makes the best cocktails.” My mother lets out a long breath. “Thank God for that.”
“How long has Nicholas been with you now?” I try to remember the man before him, but it was so long ago I can’t pull it up.
