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She does so by standing statuesque next to my front door with her designer purse clenched in her fingertips.
Oookay.
I plop back down and mute the TV in the process.
“What can I do for you?”
I feel her sigh as much as I hear it. The air of inconvenience fills my living space like a dense fog. “I know our last interaction wasn’t pleasant, but I’m here to apologize.”
I give her a bland stare. I haven’t wasted a second of my time on this apology, but if that’s what she’s here to do, I won’t stop her. My concern is he isn’t here to witness this interaction. If the conversation takes a sudden turn south, I wouldn’t put it past her to run to him with crocodile tears.
The silence stretches indefinitely. What do I do?
“Uh, I, is this it?”
“Yes.”
Blink. Blink. Blink.
“Are you even sorry?” I blurt, off-kilter by this strange conversation.
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“Okay, usually an apology contains the words ‘I’m sorry’ in one form or another.” A snarky bite inflects my tone. I hoist myself from the couch once again and snag my phone from the cushion.
She releases a perfunctory gah sound. “I am sorry. This is … difficult for me, I’m sure you can imagine.”
“No. I can’t imagine how hard it is because I don’t have a problem with admitting when I’ve made a mistake.”
“Kiersten, please sit and talk.”
I ignore her and cross my living room. “You have it wrong. Our last interaction was a heck of a lot more pleasant because you sat in a corner at my baby shower and kept quiet.”
“I’m trying to make amends here!” The quiver in her voice does nothing to me.
“Wrong again. You’re trying to make yourself feel better. Which I’m sure you’ll do by tattling on me to Nathan. Now you can show yourself out. I’m going to take a nap.”
Without waiting for what else she has to say, I plod down the hall to my bedroom, somehow managing not to slam the door.
I don’t hate the woman. She is his mom, after all, and my son’s grandmother. But I refuse to allow her to treat me like garbage. Until she gets that under control and can act decent in my presence, this cycle will repeat until one of us gives up or Nathan steps in.
And if he doesn’t step in? I will die on this hill. My parents raised me to demand the respect I deserve. She doesn’t get a free pass to walk all over me simply because she’s his mother.
23
Nathan
My truck idles at the curb in front of my house, allowing Law to pull Kiersten’s car up to the garage. I offer a small wave to Cami as she parks Law’s truck behind me. Law unfolds his long body from the small car and tosses me her keys.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Fuck no. We both know she’s going to be pissed. Happy enough that I finally retrieved her car from the shop but not amused that I didn’t bring it to her home.”
Law gazes off at his woman in his truck. “Man, do I get it. She made it home fine without her car, but I’d say you need every advantage with this one.”
“No shit,” I mutter and study the mud on my boots.
“It’s worth it.” He turns back to look at me. “This waiting feels like shit. You have an added layer of bringing a baby into this, but for what it’s worth, I think she’ll come around.”
