Hello Lovelies,
Thank you for being patient during the delay between the last chapter and this one. I'm now back at work full-time and it's taking some getting used to, that's for sure. There will be some delays whilst I'm getting to grips with everything again but I will update every chance I get.
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Much Love,
Chelsea xx
C-Day was finally here.
In less than ten hours I would be in the same room as my mother, for the first time in almost two years. It was hard to comprehend. It still seemed surreal to me.
Touching down in Savannah, my nerves flipped out of the control, the emotions I had tried to suppress all week oozing out of me. I couldn't sit or stand still. My stomach was doing somersaults. This was it. I was going to face her again. We were going to talk and, hopefully, find a way to put everything behind us.
Christian was trying his best to comfort me, distracting me at every available opportunity. He had been incredible during the flight, despite his distaste at having to fly commercial. Grace and Carrick were using the GEH jet this weekend, heading down to Hawaii for an impromptu mini-break to celebrate their upcoming anniversary. We had already promised them the jet long before we rearranged our trip here to see my mother. Christian wasn't happy having to mingle with other people in the first-class cabin, but he devoted his full attention to me and chose to ignore the annoying passengers we were surrounded by.
He was a man of his word and would never take back a promise.
And he was doing this for me.
I couldn't understand just why I was so nervous. She's my mother. I've spent more of my life with her than without, but there was something inside me that was screaming out. Trying to tell me to turn back and go home.
In any case, I wasn't going to back out now. Not this late in the game. No matter what that voice inside me was saying, I was doing this.
I will never give in to my anxieties again.
We checked into our hotel and our suite did absolutely nothing to help settle my nerves.
The deluxe suite was lavish, the furnishings and décor showing that no-expense had been spared, only the very best had been chosen for the most prestigious room, but it was loud.
Too loud. Too obnoxious. Way too much.
The colour scheme was so bright I felt like I needed to put sunglasses on to save my retinas from disintegrating. Skewing the usual monochromatic or neutral tones that most hotels adopt, the newly opened Cascades was a complete colour explosion. There seemed to be no sense to the choices – fuchsia next to olive green, teal paired with neon yellow. Zebra print beside polka dots.
The place roared WTF.
As I turned around and observed the spectacle I had walked into, I considered whether there had been some kind of mix-up.
"Not what you were expecting, huh?" Christian probed, coming up behind me. He dropped our bags onto the couch and enveloped me in a hug. "It's different, isn't it?"
"You could say that," I nodded, eyes wide. "It's a bit…"
"Eccentric?"
"Very," I sighed.
He chuckled a low laugh.
"I thought we could try something new," he explained, shrugging. "I've always stayed in the same hotel chains. I find one I like and stick to it. It gets boring after a while."
"So you thought fuck it, let's stay in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory?"
"Something like that," he laughed, nodding. His eyes shifted from mine and scanned the sitting room. "I wanted to step outside my comfort zone, be more adventurous."
His admission told me all I needed to know.
I pressed myself into him, resting my ear over his heart.
"I'll concede this is probably a step too far though," he snorted. "I didn't check out the photo gallery before I booked."
"You hate it, don't you?" I giggled. He hummed his reply. "Have you looked inside the bedroom? It's like a peacock was massacred in there."
"I thought it might make a nice change."
"It's a change alright," I agreed. I tilted my head back and smiled up at him. I stroked my palm across his cheek. "You tried and I can only commend you for that. I know it's not easy for you, to do something different."
His expression softened.
"Should I call around and check us into somewhere else?" he asked.
"No," I shook my head after a moment's contemplation. "Let's chalk this up to experience – research more."
"You mean check the room doesn't come with a sensory warning?" he quipped.
"Kinda," I grinned.
He leaned down and pecked his lips to mine.
"On the plus side, this is probably the closest hotel to my mother's house," I said. "We won't have to travel far in the morning."
"How are you feeling?" he checked, his eyes grazing over the entirety of my face.
"On edge," I admitted.
"With what, exactly?"
"Right now, I'm mostly concerned with what I'm going to wear. I need to look good and I'm worried everything I've packed isn't good enough."
He frowned a little.
"You think she'll judge you?"
"I know she will," I nodded firmly. "You seriously have no idea what you're going to come up against tomorrow."
"I can handle it," he replied.
I could sense from the way his words hung deep in the air that he wanted to add 'but can you?' on the end.
"I've changed a lot over the past year," I said. "I want her to see that. It's time she got to know the real me."
It's time she saw me as the woman I have become, not the naïve kid she dropped like a hot potato.
I am her equal. We are both adults. We should act like it.
It took three outfit changes and Christian practically dragging me out of the hotel room for me to finally accept I was ready.
As ready as I could ever be, that is.
Christian pulled the rental Audi up outside my mother's house, parking at the base of the rectangular drive.
I had never seen the house in person before, but the photographs Christian showed me didn't do it justice. It was far grander than it appeared. The white-washed walls contrasted with the redbrick properties flanking it on either side. The cream door matched the angled windows, which similarly matched the masses of rose bushes lining the front yard. Each was perfectly trimmed, not a single wilted flower in sight.
It wasn't chaotic or slap-dash. Nothing was out of place.
"What are you thinking?" Christian asked. I felt his hand rest on top of my knee.
"That I'd never picture her living somewhere like this," I shook my head. "It's too… I don't know. It's not her."
"Perhaps it's Bob's influence," he suggested. "Shall we do this? Rip off the band-aid?"
I blew out a slow breath, pushing all the air out of my lungs, and nodded my head. I threw open the car door and hopped out, meeting Christian on the drive.
He took my hand in his and held me tight, his pulse beating against my fingers. His heartrate dramatically slower than mine.
Approaching the house, we passed a silver Renault, which I assumed was Bob's car. My mother hates driving. It gives her road rage, being surrounded by idiots who don't know how to signal. It was always an experience getting in the car with her. And by experience, I mean you came away from it a nervous wreck and with a pounding headache.
Christian rapped his knuckles on the door and we stepped back, waiting for it to open. Within thirty seconds, it was yanked back on its hinges, the smell of fresh coffee attacking my senses in an instant.
"Thank god you're here!"
"Oh –"
Bob Adams jumped forward and threw his arms around me, hugging me in a way that could only be described as awkward.
I froze in his hold, still clutching Christian's outstretched hand.
I barely know this man.
I don't think I've ever had a conversation with him, let alone been held by him.
Christian cleared his throat and Bob retreated, shuffling back into the house. He wore a wide smile, his crooked teeth on full show.
Bob was average height, shorter than I seemed to remember, and had a thick head of grey hair. His dark eyes hid behind tinted, rimless glasses, his mouth lurking beneath a heavy moustache. He didn't have either in the wedding pictures I had seen on Facebook, the ones my mother uploaded with the caption 'for everyone see, including those who didn't want to come'.
"How was your flight?" Bob asked, wringing his hands together in front of him. "Good, I hope?"
"Fine, thanks," I shrugged. I glimpsed up at Christian. "Erm, this is Christian. My partner. Christian, this is Bob."
Christian nodded and gave me a soft smile. He understood why I didn't want to out him as my fiancé just yet. I wanted to tell my mother first, not her husband.
"Nice to meet you," Bob said, shooting his hand out to Christian. They shook graciously. "I didn't realise you were bringing a guest. I thought you would come alone."
I didn't reply.
There was never any chance of me coming alone.
I'm not that fucking stupid.
"But it's good you're here. Both of you," he added, nodding. "I just know this will be good for Carla, to see you again."
"Can we come in?" I prompted, looking past him into the narrow hall.
"Yes, yes, of course," he mumbled. He moved aside to give us room to enter. "You go on through to the lounge, take a seat, make yourselves comfortable. I'll go fetch Carla."
He shut the door behind us and power-walked down the hall, disappearing around the back of the stairs.
Christian lowered his mouth to my ear.
"Is he always so… jittery?" he whispered.
"I don't know," I muttered back. "I don't know him. I haven't spent enough time with him to know what he's like."
"You haven't?" he frowned.
"He got with my mom and they moved here not long after," I explained. "A couple months later and they were married."
We headed on through to the lounge, entering through the archway to our right. Neither of us sat down, both of us too busy scanning the room and checking out the all-white interior.
Just like outside, in here was equally too pristine and perfect. The only colour slicing through the room was the darts of sunlight seeping through the blinds.
"She likes photographs," Christian observed, walking alongside the mantlepiece. I peeked over to his side of the room and saw a ton of frames lined up. "Fuck, and I thought Grace loved displaying family photos."
I reached his side and looked at the pictures.
Not one photo had me in it.
No baby pictures.
Nothing from my school years.
Not even the graduation picture Ray sent her.
My stomach clenched, but I tried to relax. I told myself they were somewhere else, not torn up and thrown in the trash like my gut was telling me.
From the hall I heard footsteps and hushed voices.
"Fine, whatever…"
Oh god.
Hearing her voice after so long -
It sent shivers down my spine, right into my feet, rooting me to the floor.
I twisted my head to the doorway.
Bob emerged first, shielding her until he pulled her forward by the hand.
Our eyes locked together, mine widening as hers narrowed a fraction.
Her dark hair was teased back into a ponytail, not a single hair on her face. She had no makeup on, except for a light dab of her favourite coral lipstick across her mouth. It's the same shade she's worn since before my birth. It's just about the only thing that has stayed a constant in her life.
It's her longest running relationship.
Probably always will be, knowing her.
She looked slimmer than she used to, those Pilates classes she takes clearly doing their job in helping to firm her up. She looks fit and healthy. Her jeans were tight, gliding down her long legs, her strapless blouse clinging to her torso. It was something I would never wear. Too daring for me.
Looking at her, nobody would think she was forty-five. She could easily pass as thirty, maybe younger on a good day.
"Hi, Mom," I sighed, smiling shyly.
I took a small step forward, despite my legs feeling leaden.
Her eyes scaled the length of me, just as I had done to her a second earlier, seeming to take an age to reach my gaze again.
She stared at me, her brows pulling together, creasing the space between with a hard line.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she spat out, folding her arms under her chest.
