Page 21 of The Grumpy Billionaire
“Ms. Neely,” she corrected. “I’m getting a divorce.”
“Ms. Neely,” he said, accommodating her request with admirable patience. “This can’t happen again. Out of respect for your husband—”
“Ex-husband.”
“Ex-husband,” he repeated. “… the Providence P.D. called us and transferred your sons to my custody. But they said next time there’s going to be an arrest—or two. I hope you understand the seriousness of this.”
“I understand,” she said with obvious impatience. She was already looking past him toward Ricardo’s waiting car.
Turning to me, she asked, “Will you please handle your brothers? I don’t want to keep Ricky waiting. Tell them they’re grounded for eternity and that I’ll deal with them in the morning before school—and theywillgo to school no matter how hung over they might be.”
“Sure. I’ll take care of them,” I said. What else could I say? “Be careful. Make good choices.”
She laughed at my facetious recitation of the things she used to say to me before I went out with my high school friends, back when she was the adult in this equation, and I was the kid.
Shutting and locking the door behind her, I turned and went to herd my brothers from the living room, where they’d collapsed on the sectional sofa, up to their rooms on the second floor.
“Ima just sleep here,” Bowie mumbled.
“No. Up. Both of you. I know you’re tired, but you’ll be glad you’re waking up in your own beds in the morning when your alarms go offfor school.”
“School?” Bax whined, sounding like he had at age three after being told he had to take a nap.
I tugged at his big, sweaty hand, encouraging him to get up.
“Yes. You know the place you go on the rare occasions you haven’t been banned from the building? Now go. Come on, get up. I want you both upstairs in one minute. I’ll be right behind you with some water bottles and ibuprofen.”
He got to his feet, swaying a bit, and gave me a big, goofy grin. “I wish you'd been in school with us, Mara.”
Bowie also rose, saving me the trouble—and backache—of trying to pull him to standing. “Yeah, I wish you’d been around more. You’re a good sister.”
Regret squeezed my heart, and guilt leaked from every pore as I escorted Baxter and Bowie up the stairs to the bathroom that connected their bedrooms.
Would things have been different if I hadn’t stayed away for what amounted to their entire childhoods?
The twins had been little more than toddlers when I’d left eleven years ago. I felt terrible for missing all their Little League games and school plays over the years.
We’d kept in touch with phone calls and texts and occasional visits, but there was no replacing the years I’d missed. All I could do now was try my best to make up for them now by being the responsible big sister.
“Wash your faces and take two of these ibuprofen tablets each. And drink this water. All of it. If you throw up, donotunder any circumstances call Cheryl to come clean it up in the middle of the night. Callme,okay?”
“Okay, thanks Mara,” Bowie mumbled.
“Thanks,” Baxter echoed. “Sorry.”
I didn’t tell him it was okay because it wasn’t, but I did wish them both a good night. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning—unless I see you sooner.”
Going back downstairs to the kitchen, I made a cup of tea and sat at the center island to await the inevitable. My elbows rested on the countertop, my forehead dropping into my hands as I studied the grain of the marble.
How the hell did things get so crazy?
I’d hoped that taking a job in Rhode Island and moving in here would fix whatever was wrong, but I’d been here a month already and things were definitelynotfixed.
And something wasdefinitelywrong. The boys were going off the deep end, my mom was acting like a stranger.
There was nothing wrong with having a good time, but I didn’t think she actually was. There was almost a desperation in the way she’d conducted herself since I’d been home. I’d never seen her like this before.
According to Cheryl, it had been going on for a while since my parents’ breakup. She’d been the one to contact me when the boys had been expelled from the public school.
