Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Everyone at the club was happy, to say the least. Every single person there was a hopeless romantic, whether closeted or out in the open. I didn’t have any kind of hope for this becoming anything more than a relationship that didn’t make me hate myself. But I wasn’t about to burst anyone’s bubble.
Not yet.
Also, that was my mother’s job.
With everyone else I was worried about, I’d forgotten about my mother and her unyielding disdain. Which was no mean feat. But my mother was, for the most part, out of my orbit. Sure, I made sure that the kids saw her at least once a month, occasionally joining them for dinners I gritted my teeth through. I sometimes ran into her in town and made painful conversation. But for the most part, when it came to my mother, my mind was on the quickest form of escape without some kind of bloodshed.
So I was unprepared when she turned up at my house late on a Tuesday morning. As a rule, my mother did not go anywhere unannounced. She considered it to be the upmost form of rudeness. And she certainly did not turn up at my home unannounced when her grandchildren were not around.
We didn’t do well without some kind of buffer, my mother and I. Kids worked best. My father. Any kind of strong booze in a pinch.
But she’d definitely frown on me opening the vodka at ten in the morning. And I couldn’t exactly bar my own mother from entry, despite how bad things had gotten.
I shouldn’t have called it bad, really. There were plenty of women in this world who didn’t have mothers. Whose mothers didn’t look after their children, who didn’t come to their home after their husband died, cleaning everything top to bottom daily because they didn’t know how else to show support.
My mother was not a bad person. She just wasn’t proud of the person I was. The choices I had made. Sure, we weren’t the best of friends in high school, but there wasn’t this chasm between us that erupted as soon as Ranger decided to patch in, and I decided to marry him.
I was at peace with the fact that this was our relationship. It sucked, but I had Olive. I had the opportunity to make sure I had a beautiful relationship with my daughter.
But still, having a bone crushing sense of panic when your mother showed up at your home was not a good sign.
At least she brought muffins. If I could say one good thing about my mother, the woman could bake. Especially her white chocolate and raspberry muffins.
And she certainly was not a woman to show up empty handed.
I let her in, mostly because of the muffins, partly because I had no other choice.
Though she declined my offer of coffee, tea, juice or a bottle of water, which left me standing in the middle of the kitchen without anything to do with my hands.
Luckily, my mother wasn’t one to beat around the bush and definitely not one to linger in her disappointing daughter’s home for longer than she needed to.
“The kids have been telling me about a man,” my mother proclaimed, picking up the throw on my sofa and re-folding it. Her disproving gaze moved to the pillows. If she was here long enough, my entire house would be redecorated.
That was not going to happen.
“Yes, and?” I pressed, folding my arms and leaning against the breakfast bar. Sitting would give her the impression that I wanted her to stay a while.
My tone helped move my mother’s attention from the cushions. “And, they’ve given me the impression that this man is around the house. Often. That he was in the same club as their father was.” Her voice was pure ice. “Elizabeth, please don’t tell me you’re that stupid.”
I blinked. “Stupid?”
“Yes. Stupid enough not only to bring some man you’ve been... sleeping with around your children. Not just that, but he’s also in that gang?”
I took a deep breath. “You’ve lived in Amber your entire life. You spent Christmas with Ranger, however reluctantly. He is the father of your grandchildren. You can’t possibly be stupid enough to call them a gang when you know that’s not what they are.”
The vein in my mother’s forehead started pulsing now. “I know that they are the reason that my grandchildren will grow up without a father. That they are the reason why you never lived up to your potential, never left this town. Yet after all of that, you’re still bewitched. You’re still willing to subject your children and yourself to more of that.”
“What would you suggest I do, mom?” I hissed. “What? Should I cut all ties with the only family I’ve had the past ten years? The only family other than Olive. And dad, when he can escape from you. They don’t judge. They don’t offer their love or support with strings. They will come whenever I call, without questions. Every single one of the people in that club would die for me and my kids. So no. I’m not going to let you poison this.”