Page 28 of Motion to Dismiss

“He knows exactly what he has to do to make things right.” I look at the roses one last time. “He just doesn’t want to do it, so even a hundred bouquets wouldn’t be enough.”

“Okay, then…” He shrugs. “Well, I guess you’re just an ungrateful cunt.”

He slams the door on his way out.

I’m tempted to chase him down and give him a piece of my mind, but I force myself to stay put and focus on pulling the remaining bobby pins from my hair instead.

Seconds later, a fist pounds against my door again.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Okay, you know what?” I bite back a groan and push myself out of the chair.

“You’re one hundred percent right about not knowing me because⁠—”

I swing open the door, fully prepared to tell him exactly where he can shove Jameson’s flowers, but the rest of my sentence dies in my throat.

My mother is standing on the other side.

“Am I catching you at a bad time, Scarlett?” she asks.

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

All I can do is stare at her.

She looks nothing like the woman I’ve known my entire life.

There’s no designer summer dress hugging her figure, no perfectly tailored custom suit. Instead, an oversized gray T-shirt swallows her thin frame, and her jeans have one too many slashes in them—almost like she added a few herself.

There isn’t a trace of makeup on her face, either.

“Are you going to invite me into your dressing room, Scarlett?”

“No.” I finally find my voice. “What do you want?”

“Excuse me?” She takes a step back. “That’s no way to talk to your mother.”

“It wouldn’t be if you were a good one.” I fold my arms across my chest. “What do you want?”

And how the hell did you find me?

She lets out a quiet sigh, and I start counting backward from ten.

The second I reach zero, I’m shutting this door and pretending she was never standing on the other side of it.

“I came here to apologize to you,” she says. “I’m very sorry.”

“Apology unaccepted. Anything else?”

“Scarlett…”

“How did you find me?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “I didn’t tell anyone about my plans.”

“I would really appreciate it if you gave me an hour of your time.”

“I can’t.” I shake my head. “I don’t trust you not to slap me the second I say something you don’t like. Or worse, run straight to my father and tell him.”