Chapter Fourteen #2
Growing up with Sasha and Nikolai Fowler was truly an experience, one I hope to offer my own children one day, because there’s no doubt I had quite possibly the best childhood imaginable.
Between family dinners that consisted of eating Dad’s home-cooked meals in front of the TV, family date nights where they both made sure to make time for me between their hectic schedules, taking me on adventures to wherever one of them was shooting movies or TV shows, spending every holiday with one another without fail, and ensuring they were part of every important aspect of my life, there’s no doubt I hit the parent lottery when it comes to my mom and dad.
Of course, I’m not the average nepo baby, spoiled and bratty enough to forget that not everyone is fortunate enough to have an upbringing like mine.
Though we had and still have plenty of money to throw around, Mom and Dad have never been the kind to show off their wealth.
I never went without what I wanted, but I was never a child who had everything given to her on a silver platter.
I worked hard for what I have now, ground and worked my ass off, and built my reputation and company without using my parents’ influence.
In fact, I went out of my way to avoid it, only appearing at a handful of important events that meant a lot to both of them, keeping out of the actor-world limelight, and sticking to what my heart desired.
A lot of people nowadays don’t actually realize I’m their child, but it suits us that way, because it allowed me to build my career the way I have.
Using my own talent, determination, and perseverance, I did it myself, and my parents have always been my biggest cheerleaders.
They taught me how to invest my money and showed me from a young age how we should treat those who love, support, and encourage us in the pursuit of our dreams.
My parents are the reason I’m always quick to treat, spoil, and love on those closest to me.
Hell, I’ve taken my besties on more vacations than we can count, just because they deserve to be treated like the queens I view them as.
I’ve invested in each of their companies, all of which are flourishing and thriving as much as my own.
Before Toby revealed his true colors, I was always the first to offer my card when we went to dinner, or come home with treats and gifts I thought he’d like, all because I thought he was loyal and we were in love.
What a joke that turned out to be.
In any case, my love language is very much giving, because that’s what my parents taught me.
I find a great deal of joy in seeing the faces of loved ones light up when I gift something meaningful or something they’ve wanted for a while but never bought for themselves.
Having the wealth to afford to do that makes me a very blessed person, and not for a single day do I take that for granted.
“Baby, you still there? I think the screen has frozen,” Mom notes, drawing closer to the screen, reminding me that I’m on a FaceTime call with her.
Oops.
“Still here, Mama,” I assure, shaking my head to better focus on the conversation at hand. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked what the hell your uncle said that made you, of all people, lose your balance on the ice,” she repeats, sounding appalled by the sheer idea that her sometimes-clumsy daughter could ever have an accident at the rink.
It’s not out of the realm of possibility, so I have no idea why she seems so shocked.
I shrug, opting for nonchalance. “Just being an idiot, that’s all. I was caught off guard because I was distracted.”
“By what?” the woman who birthed me interrupts like some detective needing to get to the bottom of the mysterious bruised face.
I don’t even think she’s noticed the cut and stitches on my forehead and through my eyebrow, my bangs slightly hiding them from view.
“What possibly could have distracted you so much that you fell? You haven’t fallen on the ice since you finally mastered the art of skating. ”
Well, now, that seems like overkill.
“Mom, I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen plenty while skating,” I inform, noting not for the first time that I clearly get my flair for the dramatic from my mother. “I have days where I can barely walk in a straight line without tripping over air. Me falling on the ice isn’t a novel idea.”
“Madison,” Mom starts again, and I already know I’m about to catch an earful.
“I took you to every single skating lesson, I watched you train, and I’ve seen the menace you are on the ice.
The last time you hurt yourself on the ice was when you were fourteen years old, and that’s only because you and Morgan were racing, you hooked his skate, and he shoved you in retaliation.
You cut your hip on an unsmoothed portion of the ice.
Tell me again how you’ve fallen plenty on the ice. ”
I have nothing to say, so I remain silent.
“That’s what I thought. Now what the hell did Mack say, and what had you out of it enough to hurt yourself that badly?
” Mom demands, and I hear my aunties snicker from behind and beside her.
It doesn’t escape my notice that they remain quiet, never once in my life choosing a side between Mom and me.
It’s how they’ve managed to maintain their friendship, I’m sure.
Rolling my eyes, I carry my cell to the kitchen and brace it on the microwave before I begin rummaging through my fridge and cabinets for something to eat.
All the while, I begin my explanation about the events that occurred on the ice and, as expected, the only thing Mom catches out of it all is the following.
“You have new neighbors already? Are they good-looking? They are, aren’t they? You’re blushing. Oh my God, do you have photos? I want to see pretty boys.”
“Sash, you see a pretty boy every day,” Olya reminds my mom, and a dreamy smile turns up on Mom’s painted lips, one I’ve seen her wear countless times over the years.
Because, if Sasha Fowler is anything, she is undeniably, foolishly, head over heels in love with her husband.
And, to be fair, it’s valid. My dad is a dish, if I do say so myself.
Plenty of women have tried and failed to fawn over Nikolai Fowler, but Mom has always been and will always be the light of his life.
He has eyes for no one other than the woman he’s built a life with, and I love that for them so much.
Smiling softly at my screen over my shoulder, I watch Mom nod. “You’re so right, but curiosity begs to be sated. Do you have photos, baby?”
I snort, shaking my head, but decide to throw her a bone. “No photos, but I’m sure you’d be able to find plenty online. My new neighbors consist of Baxter Marshall.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Bea blurts, before slapping a hand over her mouth.
Laughing, I nod. “I know, right? Then there’s Rayne Hunter, apparent celebrity tattoo artist. And check this, Caiden fucking Miller of all people.”
“Oh my God, you’re joking,” Mom breathes, already aware of who Caid is.
It’s no surprise, the man is well sought-after in the sports world, and Mom keeps up heavily with her brother’s coaching of one of the biggest hockey teams in the league.
She knows Morgan has been trying to get on Caiden’s list to be trained, she knows Caiden’s agent has been contacting me to book photo shoots for the past several weeks, and she knows how handsome the guy is because she’s a professional internet stalker when it comes to other big names and celebs.
Honestly, it’s like she isn’t a famous actor sometimes.
“Nope. No joke. They have a roommate, Ryan Young. Apparently, he’s a hotshot investor and broker,” I add, and Mom’s eyes widen enough that I fear they might fall right out of her skull. That would be a shame, given how fabulous her eye makeup currently looks.
“Those are some big names living next door, Madison,” she breathes, shaking her head in shock.
I nod my head, keeping our initial introduction to myself.
There’s not a chance in hell I’m revealing to my mother, of all people, that I met the four of them after I used labia-flaming lube in an attempt to masturbate and got stuck in my tub as a result.
There are simply some things a child should never tell their mom, and that falls under that particular umbrella.
“Anyway, the whole reason I was calling is because I’m not going to make it to our spa day,” I finally conclude, getting to the point of the phone call that has already lasted longer than I thought it would.
Pointing at my face, I sigh. “I’d like this to go down a little bit before venturing into the great outdoors.
I’d hate to have a snap of me floating through the interwebs with my face busted up.
I’d have to make a statement and everything. ”
Mom is nodding along as I talk, right before someone calls her name.
She peers over her shoulder and offers a thumbs-up before giving me her attention once more.
“That’s okay, baby. You heal up and we’ll reschedule.
I have to jump off the call. I’m being summoned, but I’ll call you as soon as the shoot ends, all right? ”
“Yeah, no worries, Mama. I’ll talk to you later. You look amazing,” I call, blowing a kiss to my phone. “Crush the shoot. Love you, guys.”
Mom gives me a beautiful smile in return, my aunties waving over her shoulder before blowing a kiss back. “Love you, baby. Talk to you later.”
The phone goes black the next moment, my apartment descending into silence, and I reach for my phone just as I find the ingredients to make French toast and fruit.
Dialing my best friends in our usual group chat, I listen to the phone ring as I go about preparing my breakfast, each of them answering with a sheepish greeting one after the other.
Taking a deep breath, I face the camera and glare at my best friends’ faces, each of them battling laughter, hiding grins, and wincing visibly.
I glance at each of their pretty faces, feeling the betrayal I’ve suppressed until now, before it all comes bubbling to the surface.
Time to give these assholes a piece of my mind.
“You’re all dead to me. You know what hell I’ve been through because of you three ass-lickers? Let me tell you…”
And man, do I spend a solid three hours chewing their asses out, listening to their collective laughter and dealing with their mockery all while I share every single detail of what happened yesterday.