Page 53 of Chasing Forever
There it is. Guess I was wrong. This isn’t about Lottie. This is about appearances.
“It doesn’t look good,” she says. “You know that.”
“I was at the fair. Wren knows his daughter. That’s it.”
She tilts her head, smirking as though she knows better. “Did you enjoy playing family? Breaking your father’s heart?”
“Spare me.”
“I forbid you to do this.”
“You forbid me?” I laugh, bitter and cold. “I’m thirty-four, in case you forgot. I don’t answer to you.”
I stalk over to the fridge, pull out a bottle, and crack open a beer.
“You’re ruining our image. First you marry the girl who ruined Holden?—”
“Ruined Holden? Jesus Christ, Mom. He left her at the altar.” I toss the bottle cap in the trash. “He’s living his perfect life far away, like he always wanted. If anything, he’s the one who got exactly what he wanted.”
“He would’ve come back here if it wasn’t for her. But she walks around like he shattered her whole damn life, trying to make everyone feel sorry for her. It’s pathetic. Why would you want someone that weak?”
I slam the bottle down so hard beer bursts out the top. Mack jolts up and saunters outside.
“Get out. You’re not welcome here.” I point out of the barn toward where her car is parked.
“Surely—”
“No, Mom. Out. Lottie is my wife. And until you respect that, you’re not a part of my life.”
She rises slowly, smoothing her blouse as though she’s deciding to leave, and I’m not throwing her out. “Do I need to remind you that I’m your mother?”
“And I’ll show you respect the day you show it to me. And to her. Until then, don’t bother coming around.”
She doesn’t argue. She just walks away, probably too furious to speak. That makes two of us.
Once she’s out of sight, I grab my beer and down the rest of it before pitching the bottle in the recycling bin. Mack creeps back in and curls up at my feet.
I pull my phone from my back pocket and scroll down to Lottie’s name, looking for some type of reassurance I’m not the fool everyone is saying I am.
Still good for six tomorrow?
Yep. Ready to cross off date two.
I drop the phone on the table. Not what I was looking for.
My phone vibrates, and I pick it back up.
No smart-ass comment back? You’re disappointing me, Sheriff.
A small grin cracks my face. God, I needed that. If she was really just checking off boxes, she wouldn’t care if I answered.
Do you have time for a walk?
Tonight?
God, I’m putting myself out there, but I press Send anyway.
Yeah.
