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A noise from the foyer catches my attention. It’s a noise I know well—the sound of the elevator door opening. And it’s followed by another sound I know equally well.
Stilettos on marble tile. There’s only one woman who would let herself into my apartment unannounced in the middle of the day.
“Dammit,” I groan, adjusting myself as I move away from Ella. “It’s like they heard us talking about being interrupted.”
She’s looking at me with wide eyes as she hurriedly smooths a hand over her clothes. “Who? What’s going on?”
I answer just as I hear my name being called from the foyer. “My mother’s here.”
“Keiran?” She appears in the living room and immediately casts a disapproving look in Ella’s direction. “I hope we aren’t interrupting.”
My dad is looking in over her shoulder. And behind him? Fuck, the hits just keep coming, don’t they?
“You brought Kinsley here?” I can’t even believe I have to ask this question right now. “Why, Mother?”
Now I’m the one on the receiving end of that disapproving look. “She’s the mother of my granddaughter and she’s still technically your wife. She has a right to be here, Keiran.”
No.
I can’t do this right now. I can’t deal with both of my parents and my ex all standing in my foyer like the ghosts of Christmas fuckery.
“You need to leave.” I nod in Kinsley’s direction without addressing her directly. “She can’t stay here. I’m still dealing with the bullshit she pulled earlier in the week.”
Kinsley’s face turns stormy as she steps around my father to look me in the eye. “How was I supposed to know the paparazzi would be waiting for me the other day? Maybe I could go unrecognized a little easier if you weren’t having me followed by detectives all the time.”
Yeah, I have zero patience for her. Zero patience for any of this.
I’m not even trying to hold back anymore. To hell with being polite. I just want her out of here. “You might go unrecognized if you stayed home for a change instead of hitting every club in Glasgow with a bunch of attention whores and drug addicts.”
She glares at me but doesn’t say anything else. Probably because she’s already tired of hearing the truth—that’s just a guess, though. Kinsley has a well-documented habit of turning and running when things get tough.
Pretty sure there’s only one reason why she’s here at all. “How much money do you need?” I look at her expectantly. “Tell me an amount so I can write a check and you can leave.”
She looks to my mother, who gives a not-so-subtle shake of her head. “We aren’t here for that, Keiran. We’re here because Kinsley wants to reconcile—isn’t that right, dear?”
Kinsley casts her eyes down to the floor.
Wow.
I wonder how many times they had to rehearse this moment on the way over here. I was so caught off guard at first that I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. Now, it’s become more obvious.
“I don’t know what your goal is, Mother,” I say. “But if Kinsley won’t take a check from me, that means she’s getting money from someone else. Probably you.”
Father clears his throat. “That’s none of your concern.”
“The hell it isn’t!” I can’t help but raise my voice even though I really, really don’t want Isla to wake up right now. Ella must be thinking the same thing, because she takes a step closer to the hallway, placing herself as a physical barrier between my daughter’s room and all the craziness out here. “You all show up at my door unannounced and try to feed me all this ridiculous bullshit about Kinsley wanting to be a family? About how she doesn’t need my money and can’t be blamed for the company she keeps? I’m sorry, but the way she lives her life is my concern because I have to shieldmydaughter from her mother’s desperate cries for attention.”
They all three stiffen, but Mother is—as always—the only one who seems ready and willing to push ahead, regardless of the damage she might be causing. “We came here to offer an olive branch. We want to buy some school clothes for Isla so she’ll have something to wear for her upcoming term. Are you really so cynical that you’re going to turn down whatever small chance there might be for reconciliation here? Don’t you want to have a happy family again, son?”
It takes every ounce of my self-control not to laugh in her face. “It isn’t cynicism, Mother. I am doing what’s best for my family by keeping my daughter safe and happy. We’re already taking care of her back-to-school shopping, so rest assured she’ll have plenty of new clothes.” I try to stop there, but I just can’t. She’s crossed a line. All three of them have crossed a line today. “And if you’re so concerned about having some kind of idealized nuclear family, you should encourage Kinsley to finalize our divorce so you can marry her yourself. Maybe between the two of you, you can finally figure out how to be a loving mother.”
Too far?
Yeah. Probably too far.
Do I regret it?
Not even a little.
