Page 13 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

“I love you, Mom, and I know your heart is in the right place. But commandeering my assistant, setting up a plan to hire aprivate chef I don’t want, and coercing me to let her move in is too much.”

Mom places her hand on my shoulder, waiting until I look at her before speaking. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to apologize for wanting you to be happy and healthy. For that to happen, you’ve got to make changes, and this is one of them.”

“I appreciate your concern, but shouldn’t you leave soon if you’re going to meet Presley?” I utter with a hint of annoyance.

My mom lifts a finger in warning, wearing a stern expression. “Harrison Ford Stafford, don’t you dare try and change the subject.” She’s exceptionally pushy today. “How do you think I felt when Cabrina called to tell me that you’d been rushed to the hospital last week? It took me a couple of hours to get here from Aspen Grove and made me sick to my stomach that I wasn’t closer.”

I take her hand in mind. “Mom, I’m fine. I promise.”

“For now, sure. But what if you experience another episode while you’re alone at home, with no one around to call for help? Wouldn’t you prefer to prevent it from happening again if you can?”

Her voice slightly trembles. “Would working with Fallon be so terrible even if it means giving me peace of mind?”

My god, she is good, I’ll give her that.

I release her hand, fiddling with a stack of papers on my desk, even though they’re already perfectly aligned. Mom watches me like a hawk, impatiently waiting for me to answer.

“Trust me, it would be an absolute disaster,” I answer honestly.

She flicks her hand dismissively. “Oh, hush, you’re being dramatic. The amazing food you’ll get out of it will outweigh any negatives of having her stay with you. Besides, you’re rarely home anyway.”

That’s beside the point. My apartment is my safe haven, the one place I have total control over how it looks. Everything has its place, and there’s no clutter or chaos to disrupt my peace. That’ll all change if I allow someone else into my space.

“Mom, I’m really—”

“Honestly, Harrison, will you stop being so difficult?” She sighs in exasperation. “Please do this for me.” She mirrors my niece, Lola’s classic puppy dog eyes.

“Good grief,” I mutter.

If persistence were an Olympic sport, my mom would take home the gold. She has an uncanny ability to push until I give in to her every request. While she has good intentions, she has a tendency to take things too far. After thirty-seven years, I should have mastered the art of saying no, but she makes it impossible, even when it means upending my life to avoid disappointing her.

“Fine,” I concede, throwing my hands up. “But if things go south, the trial period ends immediately.”

My mom chuckles. “We’ll see. Are you going to decorate the spare bedroom before she moves in?”

“No.”

“Sweetheart, it’s packed with your old hockey gear and stuff from college. Plus, the walls are bare, and there’s no furniture.”

“So? Isn’t giving Fallon a place to stay good enough? She can move my stuff into the closet.”

Why would I go out of my way for someone I don’t want there in the first place?

“That’s unacceptable,” my mom scolds. “But don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. Do you think Fallon would prefer cream or purple paint for the walls?” She pulls out a small notebook and pen from her purse and jots something down. “We’ll go with cream, it’s more neutral,” she says, answering her own question.

I sigh. “Would you listen if I told you we’re leaving the room as is?”

She pauses and reaches over to pat my cheek. “Not in the slightest.”

“Just great,” I mutter under my breath.

Once she’s finished writing, she puts her notebook back in her bag and glances at her watch. “Oh, goodness.” She picks up her purse and tosses it over her shoulder. “If I don’t go now, I’ll be late to meet with Presley.” She bends down to give me a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll work on the room tonight while you’re at work. Have a great night, sweetheart.” She beams as she waves goodbye.

“See you later, Mom.”

I recline back in my chair, exhaling deeply. She thinks that because she’s intervened with my siblings’ love lives, and they’ve all found their better halves in part thanks to her, it means I’m free game. But this has gone too far. I might not have a choice of having Fallon move in, but that doesn’t mean I have to make things easy on her. With any luck, she’ll hate living with me and decide to leave on her own.

---