Everything inside me stills for a moment. I don’t want to introduce her to anybody, especially not Skittles. But Skittles is watching me, and I know if I refuse, it’s going to upset her and make me look like an ass. And her feelings trump my own instinctive urges. “This is Pascal. Pascal, my mother, Margot.” I don’t say the last name because her days as a Blackwood are numbered.
Mom smiles the gracious smile she gives everyone she deems worth the effort. But her eyes…they stay cool and superior. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed that until now. Is it because I’m older, or because I know what she’s really like?
“Hi,” Pascal says, giving a small, awkward wave. She probably remembers what she read about Mom.
And the scene hurts because all this could’ve been avoided if Mom were just more decent.
Condescension flashes in Mom’s eyes, but it vanishes almost instantly. Her smile widens, and she reaches out to take Skittles’ hand in both of hers. “I’m so happy to meet you. You’re the first of Harcourt’s serious girlfriends I’ve met.”
My skin crawls. Mom’s met my exes in high school, but she’s getting around that by emphasizing “serious” as though she’s letting Skittles in on a secret—that she’s really special. And the thing is, it would’ve worked…if it were Tiffany standing next to me.
“Oh.” Skittles clears her throat, carefully extricating her hand from Mom’s grasp. “That’s…really nice.”
“Like I said, this isn’t a good time, Mom. I wish you’d called.” So I could tell you to stay in Tempérane.
Mom looks at me like I slapped her. “I can’t believe I have to make an appointment to see my own son.”
Even an appointment wouldn’t get her in to see Tony, but I refrain from pointing that out.
“And would it be possible to go inside rather than standing in the foyer?” she asks.
I don’t want Mom inside my place or anywhere near Skittles. But what will she think if I toss Mom on her ass? Probably nothing positive. Damn it. It’s my fault for assuming that Mom would never come out to L.A. to talk to me. Commercial flights have always been beneath her, and she doesn’t have access to the jets Dad keeps anymore, but clearly this is an extreme situation.
“Yeah. We can do it inside, but I can’t talk for long. I told Tony I’d see him and Ivy later today,” I say pointedly.
My jab fails because she remains coldly placid. Of course; she doesn’t think she did anything wrong because Tony supposedly owes her for killing our baby sister. Never mind it was an accident, and he was barely twelve at the time.
We go into the living room. I don’t offer her anything. Mom takes one of the armchairs and crosses her legs, while Skittles stands awkwardly, like she’s the persona non grata in this scenario.
It fucking pisses me off. Mom’s the one who doesn’t belong here. I take Skittles’ hand and squeeze gently. When she squeezes back, the knot in my chest eases. But only a little.
“Percy contacted me,” Mom says. “I think it’s better if you speak with him and help him to see reason so he can convince your father.”
The damn divorce. If I ever see him again, I’m going to ream him for not convincing Mom of the futility of trying to stop the inevitable. “Don’t you have a lawyer for that?”
Her gaze flicks to Skittles. “I’d prefer not to discuss family matters in front of…”
Skittles’ fingers flinch in my hand, but I tighten my grip. Mom’s not going to make Skittles feel like she doesn’t belong here.
When Mom realizes Skittles isn’t going anywhere, she sighs. “Yes, I have a lawyer. But your father will be more amenable if he’s dealing with you.”
“You think he’s going to not divorce you just because I ask?” The whole notion is preposterous. He adored her. I’m just the son who won’t color inside the lines well enough to suit him.
“You’ll have to work at Blackwood Energy. It won’t be a hardship. It’s a great company.”
“I don’t want that for myself.” Edgar is already doing it—carrying on the family legacy and providing jobs for all those people. I don’t think I would handle the pressure as well. Daily decisions and meetings sound dreadful and utterly dull. Dad already knows I don’t have the temperament for an office position anyway, even though he tries. If he could, he’d be harassing Tony to do the same, but he knows Tony’s beyond his control. Tony hasn’t even taken the trust fund he’s entitled to.
If I hadn’t taken my inheritance, would Dad be leaving me alone?
“Your father loves you. So do I.”
My jaw tightens. “No. Neither of you love me, but that’s okay. I’m a big boy now, and I don’t need Mommy and Daddy to wipe my nose or bandage a scraped knee.” My voice is heavy with sarcasm, but I doubt Mom understands the reason. She and Dad never wiped my nose or bandaged my scraped knees. That was the job of our housekeeper or nanny. “Now, read my lips. I’m not getting involved in your problem. You’ll just have
to accept the consequences of your actions.”
“You’re going to let your father divorce me? Shame me in front of everyone?” Her voice cracks, just enough to enhance the pathos of her delivery.
Wishing I were anywhere but here, I look away, my neck hot. Why does she have to do this in front of Skittles?