Page 115 of Miami Ice

Mom turns back to him. “But who knows, if Georgie ends up with you, she can stay home and paint jars all day and never worry again, if you know what I mean,” she says, winking knowingly at him.

“That’s enough!” I snap, surprising not only my mom, but myself.

Both she and Beckham look at me. The blood is roaring through my ears, and I’m shaking. I hate confrontation. I hate it and I’m growing sick at the fight that has fallen at my feet, but I also know this has to stop. She’s not going to drag Beckham into this.

I know Beckham has my back.But it’s time I had my own.

And if he is willing to push back on his first meeting with her, it’s time for me to push back after a lifetime of running from it.

“Mom. I love you. I love you and it hurts me to have to say what I’m going to say,” I begin. “But I am exhausted and worn out by your endless criticism of my career. You demean it. Belittle it. And if you want to feel that way about what I do, fine. But you need to keep those thoughts to yourself because your words are damaging, and I refuse to be hurt by them anymore.”

Mom turns red in embarrassment. Beckham puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll head downstairs.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Stay. Please.”

I need him to stay because I feel braver with him by my side. His presence reminds me of things I never dreamed possible, like dating him.

And having the courage to stand up for myself.

Mom folds her arms across her chest in a defiant manner, and apparently, she’s going to push right back at me. “Georgie. I’m worried about you. You aren’t being logical about this career choice. This isnota way to make money.”

I begin shaking as soon as I see her defensive posture, but I’m determined to stand up for myself. I continue on, not backing down from how I feel.

“Mom, this isn’t your decision to make,” I say firmly. “You have a very different relationship with money than I do.”

She snorts. “Now you sound like your father.”

“Please leave him out of this. We’re talking aboutme. My relationship with you. And every time you criticize me, you’re hurting me.”

“Criticize?Georgie. You’re being too sensitive. I don’t want you to end up with a mountain of debt simply to chase a dream that is never going to happen.”

Her words sting like a slap across the face. My own mother doesn’t believe in me.

While that hurts, it’s not the most important thing.

“Well,Ibelieve in me,” I say, my voice wobbling a bit. “And that’s what matters most. Mom, these aremychoices—and mistakes—to make. I won’t tolerate this anymore. What I do with my jars is my business. What I pay Ella for bills is my business. What I owe in student debt is my business. Not yours. And I want you to know I’m going to rent space in an artist studio and move all my stuff there. So this space will be yours to do what you want with it.”

“So you’re going to throw more money away on renting a space when you can have this for free?”

“Yes. Because I think that’s the decision that is best for me.”

Mom lets her arms fall and a sigh of pure exasperation escapes her lips. “This is not the conversation to have in front of a guest or on Thanksgiving,” she snaps, irritation in her voice.

“No, it’s not ideal, but it needed to be said. When we go downstairs, I respectfully ask that you do not criticize the way I’m running my business. If you choose to do that, I choose to leave.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, this is asinine,” Mom declares. “You are blowing everything out of proportion.”

“Respectfully, I am not. And I mean it. I love you, Mom, but I won’t tolerate you disparaging me anymore. I’m setting my boundary right now. If this comes up, I leave.”

“Happy freaking Thanksgiving,” she snaps, turning and storming from the room.

As soon she leaves, I exhale. The blood is still whooshing in my ears, and my throat is suddenly dry.

I did it. I confronted my mom.

And I’m still standing.

Beckham moves in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders. I gaze up at him and see nothing but admiration in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you,” he says softly. “You checked her straight into the boards, Georgie.”

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