Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Yes, thank you,” Elsa replied.
Sam looked to him. “You? Are you all right?”
It had happened five days ago. It had also been all over the news.
And his mother had his phone number.
“The woman was caught. It’s over,” Hale said by way of answer.
His mother watched him a moment then she settled in, placing her purse on the chair beside her and smiling brightly as the server came to take their drink orders.
When he left, she looked directly at Hale, and her smile died.
“Right, Hale, I’m here. What’s this about?”
Hi, Mom, nice to see you too.
Yes, Mom, thanks for asking. Elsa is here because it’s serious. We want you to know, we’re in love and moving in together.
I know, Mom, our last conversation didn’t go well, and I agree, we need to figure it out.
His imaginary conversational gambits must have gone on for a while because Elsa’s hand landed on his thigh, and she squeezed.
“Dad left me something before he died.”
“Something more than four hundred billion dollars?” she mumbled, fidgeting with her silverware.
He clenched his teeth and turned his head toward Elsa.
She was looking at him and gave his thigh another squeeze.
He got his shit tight and looked back to his mom.
“Yes, something more than that,” he said curtly. “Through what he gave me, I learned his parents abused him.”
Her gaze wandered over his shoulder.
She knew.
“Did you know about that?” he asked to confirm. “Did Dad talk about it?”
Her gaze wandered back to him. “Your father and I weren’t together very long.”
“That isn’t an answer to my question.”
“My apologies,” she said snappishly. “Yes. He mentioned his parents could get physical.”
“Did he share how bad it was? Because it was bad, Mom.”
Her brows drew down. “Is this you giving your father some kind of twisted excuse for what he did to me? That it’s okay to shit on your wife because your parents abused you? Because,” she flicked a hand Elsa’s way, “I can see this seems serious between you two, so you should know, it’s not. It’s not okay to treat people like shit because someone treated you like shit.”
“I’m not trying to excuse what Dad did to you. I wasn’t even alive when Dad did what he did to you. I had nothing to do with that.”
“So what is this?” she demanded.
“A son trying to understand his parents’ dynamics. I’m getting a lock on Dad’s—”
She interrupted him to push out a puff of dismissive air before she said, “Will the wonders of Corey Szabo ever cease? He’s managing to heal his relationship with his son from beyond the grave. Why am I surprised?”
That was when he felt Elsa’s nails in his thigh so he put his hand over hers.
But that didn’t stop her from speaking.
“Two things I find interesting. The first, your son shared with you the significant trauma of learning his father was tragically abused nearly all of his childhood, and your first thought was to make that about you. The second, advising him how to behave with the woman in his life after his parents treated him like shit.”
Sam shot daggers out of her eyes at Elsa then demanded of Hale, “Is this what this lunch is about?”
“It is now,” Elsa retorted.
He squeezed her hand.
She pulled both her lips between her teeth.
“You’re my mother and it came clear far too late that I didn’t take the time to iron things out with my dad. Tom advised me—”
His mom interrupted him again. “Oh, now it’s Tom.”
Hale fell silent, a feeling gnawing at his gut he didn’t like.
“Go on, finish,” Sam urged.
“Are you going to interrupt me?” he asked.
“Once bitten, twice shy,” was her odd response.
“What does that mean?”
“When someone messes you about, you’re careful not to let anyone else do it. I think you’re mistaking me looking after myself, protecting myself, as something different. As some kind of attack on your father. Or your fathers, since you’re defensive about Tom too.”
“And right now you’re protecting yourself from whom?” Hale inquired.
“Sorry?” she asked.
“Dad isn’t here. Tom isn’t here. So who are you protecting yourself against right now, Mom?”
Her chin went back into her neck.
“I’ll finish what I was going to say earlier,” he allowed. “Tom advised we have a conversation about our relationship, that being if we want one. And my take from this is, you don’t want one with me. You feel you need to protect yourself from me—”
“That’s not what I said,” Sam snapped.
“Yes, it is,” Elsa put in.
She sent another glare Elsa’s way before she asked of Hale, “If this is a deep mother son chat, what’s she doing here?”
“Honestly?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“I felt the need to have Elsa here to protect me from you.”
Her head moved like she’d been slapped.
“I like Greek food, Mom, and I like this restaurant. But it’s not my favorite and I love birthday cake, so it wasn’t a treat and didn’t make me feel special that you had them bring out a slice of baklava with a candle in it. We went somewhere you wanted to go, and I ate what you liked on my birthday.”