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I cock a brow. "I’ve been busy with work, and the only thing my mom misses is the chance of doing her matchmaker dinner sessions."
Jeremy stares at me. "Even if her actions don’t always show it, she loves you."
I let out a heavy sigh while brushing a hand over my face. "I know."
"A strong espresso?"
I grin. "If you make it, sure. Where can I find her?"
"In the study. She’s busy arranging a dinner party." He chuckles as I frown. "I’ll bring your coffee together with your mom’s cappuccino in a few minutes."
As he strolls towards the kitchen, I make my way to another part of the house. But with every step I take, old memories pop up to the surface. My fingers itch as I pass the high-glass trophy cabinet standing at the side. My eyes fly over the different trophies, and I push the old feelings which try to surge back.No!It belongs in the past.
On the threshold of the room, I stop and stare at my mother who's sitting at the oval-shaped table which occupies the middle of the extensive study. She’s writing, but when I slam my hand against the wooden door, she jumps up from her chair. With her hand on her chest, she glares at me.
"Oh, sweet Jesus, Cole. Was that necessary?"
"Good morning, Mother, and to answer your question, yeah, it was. You were so focused on that piece of paper, I thought it would be an excellent way to let you know I’ve arrived."
She stands up, and after correcting her tight hair bun, she comes my way, only to start plucking invisible fluff from my jacket while voicing her opinion.
"It’s been seven weeks since you visited me, Cole. Every time I call you, you make up an excuse not to come."
I let out an exasperated huff while stopping her hands from plucking by removing them and taking a step back. "Mom, I was busy."
"Too busy to visit your mother?" Her eyes meet mine. "I have to call you to check if you’re still alive."
"Mom!"
"Oh, Carmen, go easy on him. Your son is a hardworking businessman."
I chuckle, seeing my mother’s annoyed expression when she hears Jeremy taking my side as he walks in and places the drinks on the table. He sends me a slight grin before returning his focus to her.
"Carmen, I’ve told the gardener to trim the bushes in the back of the garden. I’ll be upstairs if you need anything."
My mom nods, and when he leaves the room, she sits back on her chair. "You said you had something important to discuss?"
I chuckle at my mother’s straightforwardness. Definitely inherited that from her. I take a sip from my espresso as I sit down on a chair across from her, and let the caffeine boost my adrenal glands before speaking. "Yeah, I did," I start, holding the cup between both my hands. "Do you remember when I went to Los Angeles for eight months?"
My mom swallows. "You mean after—" A dart of grief flashes over her face, but it’s gone in a blink of an eye.
"Yeah," I confirm, not making her say it and continuing. "During my time there, I met a woman called Jessica Davis. We… hung out while I was there. A few weeks ago, I received a call from the social services in Los Angeles, and they informed me that Jessica died in a car accident."
"Oh, how tragic," my mom mumbles, bringing a palm to her chest.
"Well, Jessica had a daughter—" I stop talking when my mother mutters something while turning her attention to her list and scribbling something on it. The fact she’s not listening pisses me off. So, I just throw the bomb. "The daughter Jessica had is mine, Mom."
The pen she writes with lands on the marble floor with a thud. "What?"
"Fifteen years ago, Jessica gave birth to a girl, and I’m the father."
"That is ridiculous." She shoots up from her chair. "How on earth is that possible?"
"Sex," I note with a smug grin. My mom inspects my face, and when she sees I’m serious, she drops back into her seat. Her hand covers her mouth, and I take this as my cue to explain further.
"I reacted the same way you are now when the woman from child services called and said she expected me to be the father of Samantha. To clear up what I assumed was a misunderstanding, I flew to Los Angeles. But the second I met Samantha, I knew without a doubt that she’s mine."
My mom gazes at me. "What if she’s not yours?"
