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From this point forward, I knew I’d never be front and center. This wasn’t upsetting. I knew at some point she’d get serious about someone. Even though I was about to turn eighteen, I still had one more year of high school before I left for college, and it was unrealistic to expect Mom to remain single forever.
“Congratulations, Mom.” If anyone deserved happiness, it was my mom. “When’s the wedding?”
“Two hours ago.”
I wanted to laugh but I could tell she wasn’t joking.
My world spun on its axis yet again.
I wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fact that my mother eloped with a stranger two hours ago, or the fact that I was not present at my own mother’s wedding. I raked my hands through my hair, knocking the visor off my head in the process.
When I’m stressed out, my mind tended to think logically or else my emotions might overwhelm me.
Sure, I could focus on the insanity of marrying a complete stranger, but we lived in Las Vegas, a town notorious for people waking up married to someone whose name they might not remember. At least Mom knew her groom’s name.
So instead of focusing on the burning sting at the back of my eyes, I thought about the problem of logistics.
“Our apartment won’t fit three people, Mom.” I scanned the Lego-sized kitchen, the cramped living room that boasted more books than actual furniture, the squat hallway that led to Mom’s bedroom and the shoebox bathroom. The excuses came easily as I ticked them off one by one. “The bathroom is barely functioning. The hot water heater is on the fritz. We’ll need to replace the washer-dryer combo soon. The apartment is bursting at the seams as it is. Plus, we don’t have enough dishes for a family of three. Add in a standing lamp and it will get crowded fast.”
In my mind all of that made sense. She’d have no choice but to rethink her actions now.
“Oh, Ciaran,” she exclaimed with a joyful sigh, “that won’t be a problem at all, sweetie.” She hugged me tight. “We’re selling the deli and moving to Malibu, California. He owns a huge mansion on the cliff, right off the Pacific Ocean.”
Mom kept talking. About cars. Private jets. Yachts. A staff dedicated to our every need. Stefon, apparently, owned lots of businesses and was insanely rich. Like billionaire rich.
Then there was something about Stefon having a son who was three years older than me.
“Your stepbrother’s name is Matthias,” Mom said.
My ears started ringing and I swiveled my head up. “I’m sorry, what’s this about a stepbrother?”
“And,” Mom added, ignoring my bulging eyes. “We don’t have to worry about scrounging money to pay for college. I know that’s been on your mind, Ciaran.” Mom said it as if I’d be happy. As if that was the one thing to convince me she’d made the right decision. And, in a way, it did, but I didn’t want her marrying someone because of it. Community college was an option. “Apply to every college on your list, even the Ivy League schools. No price is too high.” She studied me. “Isn’t that a good thing, sweetie?”
The quiet anxiety in her voice pinched my heart.
Everything was changing.
There was no conflict big enough to make her worry. I looked at our cramped living situation. Mom deserved so much more than this.
I forced a convincing smile.
“It is a good thing, Mom,” I lied, hugging her.
She sighed happily as she hugged me back. “Everything’s going to be perfect. You’ll see.”
Like I said, men made fools of themselves over my mom. Myself included. That never affected me until now.
2
MATTHIAS
My dad had a thing for beautiful women.
His problem? They were around him in droves. Buxom blonds. Beguiling brunettes. Ravishing redheads. Actresses. Producers. Wealthy investors, or the wives of wealthy investors. There’d been a royal princess in there, too.
When your dad’s the twentieth richest person on the planet, he tends to get want he wants.
His other problem? He was tired of getting what he wanted, ergo, beautiful women throwing themselves at him.
