Chapter 28
JAXON
“When is the person in charge of that part of the department getting back then?” I barked into the phone while I parked in front of my mother’s house. “This is the third time I’m being told they’re not available.”
The annoying voice at the other end of the line belonged to an assistant at the airline, and she definitely didn’t grasp the meaning of the core part of her job description. She wasn’t assisting. She was fucking pissing me off.
“Yes, sir. I understand that. She’s been out of the office, but I’ll be sure to pass your messages along.”
Fat chance of that happening. It seemed like my messages from before I’d even gone to Fiji hadn’t even been passed along yet. “Yeah, you do that.”
I ended the call with a frustrated grunt.
Obviously, our HR department was a fucking mess.
What made it worse was that any time I thought about human resources, I thought about Lindsay.
I’d never even found out which company she worked for, but wherever it was, any department she was a senior member of would be much better run than ours was.
My mother walked out of her house smiling until she caught sight of my expression when I got out of the car. She rushed over to me, cupping my face in her hands and fixing me with her worried stare.
“What happened? No one should come back from a week on an island looking like that. Are you okay?”
“I wish people would stop asking me that,” I snapped before remembering who I was talking to. Smiling sheepishly, I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. “Sorry. I’m just really annoyed.”
“I’d say.” She ushered me into her kitchen. “Sit down. Tell me about your trip, and then tell me what’s got you so riled up.”
Just being in her small but familiar space calmed me down some. The magnets I’d brought back from all the places I’d been were stuck to her fridge, and the scent of roast chicken always seemed to be present.
I sat down on the closest stool, watching as she rummaged around for two tumblers. She came back to me carrying the glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
Fuck, I love my mother.
After I filled our drinks to the brim, I pushed one over to her and picked up my own. We clinked them together, each taking a long drink while she waited patiently for me to spit it out.
“Thanks for this,” I said finally. “I was really hoping you weren’t going to offer me tea.”
She made a disgruntled sound. “Who do you think I am? You’re not wearing a face that says you’re in the mood for tea.”
“Well spotted.” My mother read me better than anyone else. She definitely wasn’t the typical mom either. She never had been. “We might need another bottle. That one looks pretty empty.”
She pursed her lips. “Do I really have to ask you again who you think I am? There’s another bottle in the cabinet. Now quit stalling and tell me what’s going on.”
“You sound just like Kavan did. He even used those exact same words.”
Her eyes shone with satisfaction. “I knew I liked that boy. It’s good to know I’ve rubbed off on him.”
“You sure did.” Between my mom and Shira, the guy was becoming way too… something. I didn’t like it. “I’ve already had to sit down and tell him everything.”
“Tell it again,” she said firmly. “Everything this time. I know you well enough to know that you’d have left out some details when you spoke to him.”
I shrugged. “He wouldn’t braid my hair. I might’ve left out some stuff as his punishment.”
She smacked my arm. Hard. “I’m assuming from that statement that what you left out pertained to some of your feelings.
Here’s a heads-up, honey. Women don’t have to braid each other’s hair to share those.
We drink wine and bitch about you guys because you’re too scared to admit you even have any feelings.
We feel what we feel, we tell it like it is, and then we can move forward without being burdened.
We have the ovaries to admit what we’re feeling without turning into broody messes. ”
She hardly took a breath and yet she didn’t seem at all desperate for air.
“Are you calling me a broody mess?” I downed half my glass, feeling the alcohol burn in the best possible way down my throat.
She batted her lashes innocently. “Am I calling my own son a broody mess? Why yes, I am.” Her face turned serious as she took another swig. “Do I need to be worried about you? I’ve never seen you looking quite like this before.”
“I met someone,” I admitted. “I’ve never looked like this before because I’ve never felt like this before. Are you happy with the size of my ovaries yet? Or do you need more feelings?”
“Please.” She waved her hand. “Saying that you’ve never felt something before is only the tip of the iceberg. I still have no idea how you’re feeling. Although I’m willing to venture a few guesses.”
Mom listened while I told her about my trip, chiming in with questions about how things had made me feel every time I tried to gloss over it. When it happened again right when I got to the part about me leaving, I narrowed my eyes in a mock glare. “Are you going to charge me for this session?”
“Of course. Dinner is on you tonight.” She gave me a delighted grin. “There’s a magnificent new burger joint that delivers. I’ll have the Chicken Supreme.”
“Dinner was going to be on me anyway.”
She shrugged. “In that case, you’re paying for this session by giving me the peace of mind that my son has the balls to face what he’s feeling.”
“Mothers should not be allowed to say the word balls,” I grumbled.
Arching her eyebrows as an amused smile swept across her face, she tucked her chin closer to her chest. “Why not? You’re forgetting the fact that mothers knew what balls were before you kids were even conceived, and also that we were the ones to wipe them for you when you were still in diapers.
All things considered, I’m quite confident I know more about balls than you do. ”
I choked on my own laughter. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Yep. You texted me yesterday. Did you tell this girl how much you love her? I think that’s the more pertinent question here.”
“What? I don’t love her. I’ve known her for a week.”
She gave me a headshake and looked at me like I was stupid. “You say that like it means something. Do you want to know what I think?”
“Sure.” I was curious to get her take on it. “Bring it on.”
“Something is different when you talk about her. I suspect you already know that, considering that you’ve already admitted that you’ve never felt like this before.”
I nodded. “She’s something special all right. It’s really too bad she deserves someone better than me. Hell, I might not even have a job right now.”
“You’re such a man.” She pinned me with knowing eyes. “You should’ve given her the goodbye she deserved, even if it hurt. You also should have told her that she was someone special to you. In which case, you might not even have had to say goodbye.”
“I was trying to do right by her.”
“Maybe that’s what you’ve been telling yourself, but it’s a lie.
Since when do you lie to your mother, and since when do you have such self-esteem issues that you think she deserves better than you?
You, my darling, are the absolute best. If this woman is as smart as you think she is, she already knows that. ”
“Her fiancé left her at the altar less than two weeks ago. Let that sink in, Mom. The guy she thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with left her—on their wedding day—less than two weeks ago. She deserves better than being hounded by some guy she met when she was supposed to be on her honeymoon that now can’t leave her alone. ”
“Does she?” She cocked her head in a way that made me think Kavan had rubbed off on her just as much as she had on him.
“Let’s put that a little differently, shall we?
Does she deserve a guy who knows her worth and is so crazy about her after only a few days with her that he’s willing to stand by her side no matter what?
How about a man who recognizes and respects that she’s been through a tough time and doesn’t abandon her just because of it? ”
“Fuck.” I hadn’t thought about it like that. “I could’ve been that guy.”
“Yes, you could have.” Mom drained her glass and set it down with a thud on the counter. “What are you going to do about it?”
“It’s too late now, Mom. It’s already over. I’ve already left.”
The long look she gave me told me she disagreed. “One day, you’ll learn, darling, that while you still have breath in your lungs and fight in your heart, it’s never too late. Now, refill my drink and let’s deal with this one step at a time.”