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I blink another tear out. “I don’t care about the money, Mother.”
“Everyone cares about money, Clay. Don’t pretend it doesn’t rule our lives.”
“It doesn’t rule mine,” I mutter angrily.
“Then why do you come? Why do you answer when I call? You clearly don’t care about me either.”
“I do care about you. You’re my mother. You’re all I have. Regardless of how angry I am at you or how much you’ve hurt me, I still love you.”
This time, when she blinks, her tears spill over, and she holds my eye contact longer than I think she ever has before.
“I love you, too,” she mumbles sadly, clearly embarrassed as she discreetly wipes her tears away. “And I’m sorry…if I ever hurt you.”
I take a deep breath, letting out a heavy exhale as it feels like a thousand pounds have been released from my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“So,” she replies astutely, straightening her spine and trying to act as composed as possible. “Tell me what’s going on in your life.”
It’s my turn to scoff. “We don’t have enough wine for that.”
When I feel her hand rest against mine, I glance up to see an expression of sympathy on her face. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
It’s not enough, and even if it was, it’s too late to undo the hurt that’s been caused. But this is truly the first time in my life I’ve felt my mother’s genuine concern. And while I won’t give her a detailed explanation of why I’m in so much pain, it reminds me that anyone can change.
Anyone can try.
And while it is a little too late for my mother, it might not be too late for me.
Rule #43: You’re never too tough to grovel.
Eden
Love is nothing but a form of control. Manipulation. Torture.
It’s just another way for us to make each other miserable. As if life isn’t hard enough, we have to put our hearts on the line. Offering to let others hurt us as much as they want. And for what?
What is the return for falling in love? There’s no guarantee they’ll love you back. There’s no guarantee they won’t cause irreparable damage.
Love is a mistake.
The only things in life that are true and real are sex and power. Those are undeniable. And love has nothing to do with them.
After canceling my clients for the third day in a row, I’m finally stepping foot in Salacious again after almost a week. But before I head up to my room, I need to have an important conversation with someone first. One I’ve been dreading.
“Knock, knock,” I say as I tap on the office door in the back. Emerson Grant is sitting at Hunter’s desk because I asked him to meet me tonight.
“Hey, Eden—” He looks up from his phone and reads my expression immediately. Standing up, he rounds the desk and comes up to me, placing a hand on my arm.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
I swallow. I can’t answer that question because, right now, nothing feels okay. I’ve ruined every ounce of happiness I might have felt in my life, and it’s my fault. I can see that now. No matter how much I tried to make things right, I acted out of haste. I panicked. And it was stupid.
But there is no undoing what I’ve already done.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I just need to talk to you about the job.”
“Of course, what’s up?”
