Page 91 of Wild For You
“I don’t think so,” I said, just as my knight in shining armor arrived.
Kelsey’s car pulled into the driveway, and I immediately closed the front door behind me and pushed away from the woman standing on the porch.
I rushed toward her car, hoping to convince her to drive to my parents’ place. Whoever this woman was besides a past fling of mine, I didn’t want her anywhere close to Kelsey and the baby.
I leaned down to look through her window and told her sternly, “Get out of here, baby.”
“What?” she asked as she opened the door before I stopped it halfway.
“Kelsey, I need you to get out of here.”
She looked at me in confusion, then her eyes landed on the rental car parked in front of the neighbor’s yard.
With a surprising amount of force, she shoved the door open all the way and then slammed it shut before turning toward the woman on the porch.
“Kelsey, I’m so sorry. I have no idea why she’s here. I haven’t seen her in a decade, and it meant nothing the one time I saw her before that. I swear it,” I pleaded.
“What?” Kelsey asked me over her shoulder, then stomped toward the woman. “Mom?”
Utter shock registered, and I shook my head, thinking I misheard my girlfriend. “What?” I was the one to ask this time.
“That’s my mom. How did she find me here?”
My eyes widened to the point my vision blurred for a moment. “That’s your mom?”
The woman got within listening distance, then asked Kelsey, “Sweetie, what are you doing here at Wyatt’s place?”
“Who…? Who’s Wyatt?”
Neighbors started filing out into their yards to watch the drama unravel. Even Roman was ready with his baseball in hand, tossing it in the air as he watched.
“Maybe we could head inside?” I suggested through gritted teeth. I didn’t want this woman anywhere near our home. Which brought up a better question—how did she find me?
Chapter Twenty – Kelsey
I didn’t think I’d ever been so confused in my entire life. Not only was I dealing with who I had the sneaking suspicion was my boyfriend’s phone stalker showing up at our door, but that the same stalker happened to be my mother.
The irony of the fact that Andrew thought I was his brother-in-law’s stalker the first time I showed up to help Owen train was not lost on me. But I had a feeling this situation wouldn’t be something we laughed about in the future.
Andrew had messed around with my mother. She described it as a quicky blowjob that left her wanting more, even after all these years.
I felt like I’d fallen down the rabbit hole and found myself in Wonderland, where up was down and night was day. None of it made any sense.
My mother sat on the couch with a glass of white wine in her hand. I had no idea where Andrew pulled that from, but her drinking was the least of my worries. I wanted my mother to be anywhere else other than in my safe space.
I suddenly realized that Andrew had no idea this woman had a teenage daughter back then. Truth be told, I was really grossed out, but something about that fact made this entire scenario a little less creepy. She had always looked young for her years, so he probably thought she was his age or younger. He wouldn’t have believed she was old enough to have a child my age. Fourteen years ago, I was twelve. Ten years ago, I was sixteen. If she were the same age as him, that would’ve meant she had me when she was in her midteens, which was definitely not the case.
I guess the less-creepy factor came from the knowledge that he wouldn’t have wanted to be with us at the same time. I was literallyhalfhis age, still a minor, the last time he saw her.
I knew Andrew was older than me. Our gap in age was never a big deal, especially since I saw how happy two of his sisters were with their husbands, who had similar age differences. But until now, I never considered the fact that he was closer to my mom’s age than mine.
“Kelsey,” he pleaded with me, trying to get my attention and explain the situation further, but I was lost in my own thoughts, sitting in a chair across from my mother.
“Wyatt, honey, can I have another glass?”
Andrew’s fingers flexed, then clenched into a fist at his side.
“His name isn’t Wyatt. It’s Andrew,” I said through gritted teeth as he poured her another glass. The one good part about the alcohol was that my mom would spill every secret she had. It was like a truth serum.
