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I nodded.
“The sex is great, sure, but if someone chopped off my dick tomorrow, she’d still be the girl I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at me.
“Well damn,” she mumbled, wiping at her face. “Color me jealous.”
“And I hope,” I added, looking into her watery eyes, “that you’ll find someone who you can say the same about one of these days. If it’s not Jamie, then someone else.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Now that she was all teary and crying, Paula stood and brushed invisible lint off her pants.
“Well,” she managed while wiping up her face, her makeup smearing a little. “I should probably get home. Jamie’s waiting for me. We’re supposed to go on a date this afternoon.”
“Have fun,” I said, lifting a hand to wipe up the smeared mascara under one eye.
She gave me a grateful smile before turning and leaving.
My heart hurt for her. One couldn’t spend a fifteen year marriage with someone and be able to cut them fully out of their heart within a year. Marriage or no, I cared for her. She’d been my best friend and my partner for so long, and I hated to see her crying. She’d hurt me, yes, but I knew that I’d hurt her, too. Neither of us were perfect, but I knew that despite her choices sometimes, Paula was a good woman, and I hoped she could find the love that I had.
My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.
I pulled it out of my pocket, expecting to find Mia’s newly applied picture on it, but saw the three little letters that I dreaded more than most.
MOM.
With a groan of frustration, I headed back toward my bar cart and poured a third shot because I was going to need it if I was going to survive a conversation with my mother.
“Hello Mom,” I said stiffly as the crystal of the decanter tapped the rim of my glass.
Shit, why were my hands shaking?
“Hello Owen,” Mom said in her typically aristocratic voice.
If she had been born in the late seventeenth century, she’d have been one of those nasty old women who got girls burned for witchcraft.
“It’s a delight to hear from you,” I said, gagging out the words.
She huffed.
“Yes, well, I’ve decided that I’m coming to see you. That woman can’t keep my grandchildren away from me permanently.”
“Mother, Paula isn’t trying to keep them away from you. She wanted to live by her family, who happen to live across the fucking country.”
“Owen, manners,” my mother hissed.
Well damn, I’d forgotten for a moment there what a prude my mother could be.
“Apologies,” was all I offered.
She huffed again.
“Like I said, I’m coming to visit. I expect you have room in your home for your dear mother?”
Aw, fuck my life.
“Of course I do,” I agreed. “How long will you stay?”
