Page 28 of Anything For This Love

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, her face drawn in indignation. “I bought this phone. It’s older than dirt, but still has my music on it.”

I bite back my retort, wanting to ask her how she paid for it. I know she was running drugs at one point. I have to assume she’s still involved in that shady line of business in some form or another.

“So, you cleaned the house,” I observe, needing a change of subject. “It looks nice.”

“I had time on my hands,” she replies with a shrug. I let my irritation float away and feel the gratitude my wounded heart is trying to fight.

“Well, I appreciate you doing this. It takes some of the pressure off me.”

She nods, unsure how to react to my thankfulness.

“Where’s Chloe?”

“Mom took her to the library.” It’s discomforting to hear her call my grandmothermom. I guess since I haven’t heard it in so long, it seems foreign to my ears. My grandparents were never able to have more kids, so all they had was my mother. There was never another child to call themMomandDad, and it always made me so sad for my grandmother after she took in me and my brother. She deserved to have all the children she wanted. She’s a kind soul with a big heart. Her capacity to love is beyond anything I’ve witnessed in another person.

“Any idea when they’ll be back?”

She shakes her head. Suddenly looking nervous, she starts to wring her hands, her eyes rounding like a puppy’s. What the hell is she up to?

“I was wondering,” she begins, her eyes darting away. “I’d really like to visit Ethan.” My defenses go up and I fight the urge to yellNo!at her. “I know he’s okay and that you’ve been checking on him, but I’d really like to see him with my own eyes.”

“I can relay your wishes to him, but I can’t make any promises.”

“That’s really all I can ask for.”

My mother takes her one-woman cleaning spree to the bathroom while I start on dinner. It’s nearly finished when the front door opens and my grandmother comes through with my daughter. Chloe runs to me and I scoop her into my arms, peppering her cheeks with kisses. My grandmother shrugs her coat off at the door and slowly takes in her surroundings.

“The house looks great,” she praises. “And it smells very nice. Did your mother do all this?” I nod in response. Her brows shoot to her hairline and her mouth stretches into an impressed expression.

My mother shuffles back into the room hesitantly, crossing her arm over her stomach as though she’s nervous to approach us. Her eyes quickly dart between us almost as if she’s afraid we’ll reject her. My grandmother opens her arms and pulls my mom in for a hug, thanking her for cleaning the house.

“Mama, I was wondering,” my mother begins, wringing her hands in front of her. It’s almost comical how trepidatious she seems. She’s taller than both of us by at least a couple inches and is far meaner, but acts like she’s scared to death of my sweet, little old grandma. “Would you show me how to make Papa’s minestrone? I’ve tried a couple times but haven’t been able to get it right.”

My grandfather’s parents were first generation Italian immigrants. I don’t know much about his family, but I do know they passed down all their traditional recipes to him before disowning him for marrying my grandmother. He loved to cook and would always try to teach my mother, but she never had much interest in it. For some reason, it makes me feel even more neglected by her. She wasn’t interested in having a family and therefore didn’t care enough to learn how to cook. If it hadn’t been for my grandparents, we would have lived off hot dogs and boxed macaroni and cheese. Even at twenty-three years old, her disinterest in us still stings. I know I need to let it go, but having her here and seeing her face every day reminds me of all the pain she caused Ethan and me.

My grandmother’s eyes soften and she takes Mom’s hands in hers. “Of course. We may need to grab a few things from the store, but that won’t take long. I can show you exactly what to get.” Her face beams, elation shining in her dark eyes.

I’m happy for my grandmother, but I have this niggling feeling in the back of my mind that my mother’s return won’t always be sunshine and rainbows. I’m waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Saturday morning,I’m pouring coffee into my travel mug when my mom saunters into the kitchen. Her brow furrows as she scans me from head to toe, taking in my attire. The gesture sets my teeth on edge and my jaw hardens. I’d expected my irritation to wane with the arrival of my cycle this morning, but my mom has a way of rocketing those negative emotions straight to the surface.

“Are you working today?”

“Yep,” I clip as I add cream and sugar, stirring the piping hot liquid with a spoon. My hours may have been cut at work, but I’m still on the weekend rotation. At least I’m free next weekend and Chloe and I will be in Virginia with Jacob. The holiday gala is one week away and although I’m not thrilled about the event, I’m excited to see Jacob. Ethan’s recovery and my mother’s sudden reappearance has taken up more of my time than I’d anticipated, and he’s been busy training a new employee so we haven’t had much time to talk. Picking up extra shifts at Rosie’s hasn’t helped, either. I miss Jacob like crazy and I know Chloe does, too.

“What are you thinking about?” my mother asks, studying my expression.

“Nothing,” I reply quickly, brushing her off. I don’t want to talk to her about Jacob. I want to shield him from her for as long as possible. What I have with him is good and pure. I don’t want her tainting that.

“Liar,” she chuckles with a teasing grin. “I know that look. You’re thinking abouthim, aren’t you?”

I set my coffee down and lean a hip against the counter, folding my arms. “Why do you want to know?”

“Abby.” Her low, sullen voice encircles my name in sadness. “I’m still your mother. I want to know what’s going on in your life. You haven’t even uttered his name in my presence.”

“But you already know it, don’t you?” Guilt flashes in her eyes. It’s hard telling how much her sneaky ass knows. She’s probably been going through my things while I’m at work. She’s here by herself all the time. “That’s what I thought.” I turn away, swiping my cup and heading toward the door.

“What did you expect?” The anger and regret in her words stop me in my tracks. “You barely speak to me. You act like you can’t stand to be in the same room as me. I had to ask my mother what the father of my grandbaby’s name is!”

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