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It’s unfair and it fucking hurts that this woman who gave me life has never felt anything close to maternal love for me, and I should be over it already for fuck’s sake.
“Surely you can spare some time for your mom.” She sounds so hurt, so reasonable, and her act might fool any passerby, but it doesn’t fool me.
Her sad eyes with just a hint of wetness to them, her sad little pout . . . it’s all designed to make me look bad.
I don’t care about looking bad. I care about the truth, so I stare right into those lying eyes and don’t mince my words.
“You’re not my mom, Mary Anne. You told me a long time ago to address you by your name, don’t you remember? I’m pretty sure I was six at the time. It’s not the sort of thing a kid forgets. I’m not going to give you a few minutes to see how much money you can get out of me, so let’s save ourselves the time. The answer is none. If you didn’t save the fortune Jim was paying you for being my incubator, that’s on you. I don’t owe you shit. Now let . . . go.”
She sputters and coughs, and impressively, a couple of tears fall and roll down her cheeks.
I don’t have time for this.
“Why don’t you spend your time finding another poor sucker to suck dry?” I don’t lower my tone, even while I snap my arm free.
No one here should be surprised by what I’m saying, or by how true my words are. I don’t bother to look around to find out if they are. I simply continue on my way and only stop once I reach the elevator, now with Wes joining our group.
No one dares to speak as we make our way to the garage, and I don’t blame them. What the hell can they say after witnessing that? I’m not paying any of them for emotional support, and though Wes is possibly the person who knows me the best in the world, we’re not friends exactly. He has my back, and he knows I appreciate him more than words can express, but we’re not buddies.
I wonder what Eli would say, and I almost smile when I realize he’d be raging mad and spewing insults until his voice went hoarse.
It’s a good reminder.
I do have someone, well . . . maybe two.
Though I also don’t pay Sunny for emotional support, he did agree to being friends last night. Well, he agreed to be friendly, and didn’t look too thrilled, but that’s just par for the course in my experience. I’ll do my best not to be too pushy with him.
I look down at my watch and see it’s still early enough that if the traffic gods are on my side I can get home in time to go pick up the boys with him.
Rae cleared out most of the day for that joke of a deposition, and I don’t feel like dumping the shitshow with Mary Anne on my sisters.
Liv had Avery for support when her mother and Jim separated, Luna had Avery and Liv. I had all three of them, but Avery had literally no one.
I know she’s strong. I know she’s fought to heal the wounds number one and Jim inflicted on her, but it would still be cruel to bring this up to her. To them.
They don’t need to know their mothers are all circling like sharks.
I turn to shake Baron and Beatrice’s hands.
“Thanks, guys,” I murmur.
“We did literally nothing,” Beatrice says, deadpan, and gets me to smile again, at least a little one.
“Let’s hope they take your advice to heart,” Baron says, his barely there smirk making an appearance, and that actually makes me chuckle.
“No one ever takes my advice,” I tell them with a knowing smile. “I’m a deadbeat with a trust fund, haven’t you heard?”
Beatrice snorts.
“We know better, Tuck. Go home, shake it off. You did well.”
She pats my shoulder, and fuck. Why does her approval mean so much to me?
Okay, I know why. I’ve got all the mommy and daddy issues a psychologist could come up with.
“Thanks,” I whisper, then turn and nod at Wes. “Let’s go home.”
“You got it.”
