Page 82 of My Forbidden Boss

I sag into the seat, handing away my decision. It won’t be all right. Nothing will be right ever again, but Mom could not walk up the floors to my apartment.

I’m silent as David opens the door of his home and ushers us in. He’s all effortless ease and politeness as he shows Mom to her room, acting as though we have every right to be here. He takes me to mine where my suitcase sits near the bed, stuffed with the clothes he bought me in Florida. He lingers by the door, but when I turn, he’s closing the door behind him. There’s no pressure, no words, no more persuasion, and I’m both relieved and disappointed.

I take out my clothes that have been cleaned and separate them from the pile David bought me. He bought far too many. Some still have tags, the prices giving me hives. I’ll send them back for a refund. I won’t owe him anything after this.

Helping his business is my apology. My small way of making things right. The hand of fate has at least given me that.

I settle Mom in, glad to see her happy in this luxury. I don’t return to my room. The bed is big enough for the both of us and I’m happy to share with her. We’ve slept in one bed all my life and tonight I don’t want to be alone.

My sleep is disturbed. I’m too agitated and my brain throws up vibrant images of the way I’ve shared my body with David. The way I have no more right to. I wake before dawn breaks and lie next to Mom until her eyes flicker open and focus on me.

“Tell me what he is to you,” she says.

I sigh, wishing I’d gotten up and ready, yet knowing there’s a need for this conversation. “I think you know, Mom.”

“I’d like to hear it in your words, sweetheart,” Mom says, offering me a comforting, sad smile.

She knows me better than the back of her hand. It’s been her and me against the world, and it still is. She’s on my side and if I ever needed someone to talk to, it’s her.

I wipe my palm across my face, knowing the truth is where I need to start. I turn to face Mom, my lips pressing together. “I didn’t get a job. There was no holiday work. Max set the whole thing up. He faked my employment to get information from Blue Sky, but when I first met David he…” I draw in a breath, thinking how I can adequately sum up that first day. Words are inadequate in the face of a life-changing moment.

“The attraction was immediate,” Mom says, summing it up in her usual way.

“I knew what I was doing was wrong. I was there to steal from him, but David, he…he didn’t let up. I tried to tell him. To warn him off me. I just couldn’t…help myself,” I say.

I expect from her lips the same level of derision that simmers inside me, but instead she cusses. Mom never cusses. I bring my gaze up from the sheets where I was studying the weave up close to see her flushed face. “Max is a degenerate. I can’t believe what he made you do. I can’t believe he went behind my back to get to you either. That man is scum.”

Mom is always gentle. Softly spoken despite our environment. She’s never mad, but rage churns in the depths of her eyes. She sits up and pushes back so she’s resting against the headboard. I follow her and do the same. She carefully adjusts her worst leg on the mattress. It’s twisted. The knee gnarled and misshapen. I wonder how different her life, how different both our lives would have been if that bus hadn't hit her that day. If she had had the proper medical treatment from the start.

“I still went through with it, Mom. I did everything Max told me to. There were still choices to be made, and I made bad ones time after time. I’m as much to blame as Max is,” I say.

Mom’s eyes fill with tears. She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Sweetheart, you are not to blame for any of this.

“I hurt David. I hurt everyone!” Pressure builds behind my eyes. I squeeze them shut as though that will force the threatened tears away.

Mom takes my hand and threads our fingers. Her warm palms are the balm I’ve missed. “You’re upset because you care. It’s understandable.”

“I wish I didn’t care. I wish I’d walked away that day when Max bailed me up. I wish I’d never come to New York…met David…” My throat swells and I take a breath. I need to get this out. I’m sick of acid in my gut, a sucker punch that keeps a bullseye hit to my solar plexus. “I got caught up, that’s all. Flattered. A small-town girl meeting a big city businessman. Just goes to show how naive I really am.”

Mom leans over and hugs me. She tucks me against her and suddenly I’m eight years old again. I burrow against her, letting her shield me from the world for this little while. I breathe her scent in, all white lily and comfort.

“He said he loves you,” Mom says after moments of rubbing my shoulders.

I cringe because what would a man like him love about a woman like me? It’s not real. He’s a good guy who wants to help an unfortunate person. “I’m charity, Mom.”

David got in too deep. He’ll let go when the good deed is done and he can walk away with a clear head.

“Sweetheart, a man like David doesn’t offer his house to a woman’s mother without deep feelings,” Mom says.

I sigh. In time, she’ll see the truth. “I can’t offer anything in return. I have nothing to give. We’re all wrong for each other.”

“We might not have much in the way of possessions, but we’re richer than most in experience and depth of emotion, and you have that in abundance. I fear it’s because of me…” I protest, but she cuts me off. “No matter how I wish it were different, it’s true. You were forced to grow up too young, but it means that you’re stronger than most. You see more than most. Understand people. You see beyond the surface because you look for it. He sees the same thing in you I see, and it’s beautiful, my daughter. You’re wrong when you say you have nothing to give, because what you give is the most precious thing in the world. You give it freely and often. You give yourself.”

I crack, burying my head against her chest so she can’t see my face scrunch and Mom continued her assault.

“Don’t let the life we’ve had take away your happiness. You deserve it all, sweetheart. If you want him, if you love him the way he clearly loves you, let him in. Take what he freely offers you in return for giving yourself to him.”

Tears burn my vision to white-out. My chest is tight. I’m fraying, the cords of my heart pulling in a way that tears me in all different directions. Her words soothe the years of abuse. Of being hated and overlooked. The scorn and the ignorance.

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