Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Mom,” I say, looking at her long and hard. “What’s really going on?”
Her bottom lip trembles, and a tear drips from the corner of her eye.
“You know I loved your father more than anything, baby girl, and I will never regret the sacrifices I made to be with him, but I gave up everything the moment he smiled at me. I’d do it all over again, but life is short, and we’re not guaranteed our happily ever after.”
Tears stream down her cheeks now, and I reach out, swiping them away. She hiccups a sob, and I pull her head into my chest, holding her while she cries.
I doubt tequila has played a part in her current state, but I also know she’s never really grieved the way she needed to.
After several seconds of allowing her to have her moment, she lifts her head, rubbing at her eyes. “When your dad d-died, I didn’t even know who I was anymore. All the dreams I had before meeting him were no longer an option for me, and I felt lost.”
My father did become my mom’s identity. His friends were hers. Where he went, she went. Looking back, I can see now how unhealthy that was. My mom didn’t have her own life, so when Dad died, she lost everything.
“I don’t want you to ever feel the way I do. Like a piece of you is missing. I want you to love, baby girl, don’t get me wrong. I do. But I am petrified of your heart breaking like mine was..That’s my issue, not yours. So don’t listen to me. I’m a cynical old bat.”
I laugh. “You’re hardly old, Mom. You can relax. I’m going to be fine. I’m not falling for Charles. I’m following my dreams.”
She sighs. “Guard your heart. That’s the best piece of advice I can give you.”
I squeeze her hand. “I will. I promise.”
“You’re all I have left of him,” she says. “Not only do you have his eyes, but you share his name.” She closes her eyes. “Ray would be so proud of you.”
I can’t help my own tears from falling. My dad was the only person who ever called me Rae. They chose my name because my dad said he always wanted me to have a piece of him. It’s an honor I’ve carried my entire life. One I cherish above all.
“I love you, Mom.”
“Me, too, baby girl. Me, too.”
18
Raven
Tacos last night might not have been the best idea after all.
Okay, it wasn’t the tacos. The margaritas may be at fault.
My head has been aching all morning long. My fault for chugging that last margarita, hoping to avoid any additional conversations surrounding Charles.
Luckily for me, mom didn’t bring up the topic again, instead choosing to discuss how Lily finally opened up to my mom about her feelings for Asher before she had left for the night.
Poor girl didn’t realize the can of worms she was opening. I’m not sure what it is about Asher that sets my mom on edge, but it’s clear she doesn’t exactly care for my best friend. Which is very peculiar and so unlike her.
She likes everyone.
Now, I’m back at my desk earlier than I need to be, staring at the résumé of my one o’clock interview. This candidate seems like a perfect fit for Icon.
She has a firm handle on advertising and marketing, but more importantly, she spent almost a decade modeling. I think she will get along well with Catelyn Davies, a former Victoria's Secret model looking for her next big role with Diosa. At least, that’s my hope.
It’s imperative I have the right team in place. In my absence, this person will run the show, reporting directly to me. If they mess up, I’ve messed up.
I like to pretend I’m more confident than I really am, but the truth is I’m petrified of losing the account. I want to prove to Charles that he hired the right person, despite my lack of experience. Thankfully, he’ll be joining me in these interviews. In a sense, he’ll have to share the blame with me if we choose incorrectly.
That fact does the trick in easing my worry.
I head toward his office, hoping to review some last-minute questions for Rochelle, the interviewee, but his door’s closed.
Turning to head back to my office, I hear the door creak open and turn to watch a smartly dressed man with a horrific comb-over exiting. I catch a glimpse of Charles through the door, and he looks angry.
And, if I’m not mistaken, I swear I heard Charles yell, “Idiot,” before opening the door. Shelby’s just getting back to her desk, and I shuffle my feet toward her, trying to get out of the older man’s way.
Charles catches my eye, and I quickly look anywhere but at him.
“Who’s that man?” I ask Shelby, and her eyes darken.