Page 59 of Enticing the Enforcer
She never wanted to be a mom-ager, but she managed every detail of my life anyway: my business, my money, my estate–always a few steps ahead to keep me safe. Now that I’m old enough to make decisions for myself, she’s pulled back a little and mostly handles my charitable works. Primarily the Flockton Foundation.
“The show looked great last night,” she says, tilting her head as she sips her coffee. “You’ve got a lot of energy for someone on the final leg of a world tour.”
“I’m glad it looks that way, because I’m beat.”
“Maybe it has something to do with the new young man you’ve been seen with?”
“Have you been reading the tabloids?” I arch an eyebrow. I lift the carafe and pour myself a hot cup of coffee. “If you want to know about my love life, Mom, just ask.”
Her lips quirk up. “I’m asking.”
I laugh softly and give her a measured version of the story, careful where I stop and start. “His name is Jefferson Parks. He’s a college student and hockey player although he’s graduating in a few weeks and has already signed with a team for next season. He’s… interesting. Funny, smart, steady in a way that’s surprising. Not flashy for no reason, not chasing attention. Makes me feel…” I search for the words and come up with, “...normal. Grounded.”
She studies me closely, sipping her coffee. “You’re not usually into jocks.”
“I’m not, but I figure my track record with musicians and actors hasn’t been so great.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
I let the words hang in the air, then admit, “Old habits are hard to break.”
Mom leans back, eyes narrowing just a little. “How does Madison feel about him?”
It irks me that there’s an implication that my best friend should get a voice in this, but I get it. I shrug, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. “She likes him, I think, but she’s always worried when I start dating someone new.”
Mom smiles faintly. “She’s just protective, sweetheart. Maybe she’s seen too many people hurt you before.”
I stare at the glinting water, fingers tracing the edge of my coffee cup. “Maybe. I just don’t like that we’re at odds on this. I want her to be happy that I’m happy, not–”
“–not second-guessing every man you meet?” Mom finishes for me, eyes softening. “I get it. That’s her role in life as your friend and assistant.”
The lines in this life have a way of getting crossed. It’s important to surround yourself with people you trust, which means friends and family get on the payroll, but they aren’t just employees. They’re my people. My truth tellers.
I nod slowly, letting it settle. “Yeah. I know.” The look in her eyes tells me she understands without me finishing.
Mom pats my hand. “The fact that you’re smiling this morning–that’s enough for me.”
And for a moment, looking at her, listening to the faint hum of the pool and the birds in the yard, it really is. Mom leans back in her chair, tilting her head as if weighing something carefully. “The Spring Gala’s coming up in three weeks,” she says. “Everything is running smoothly, and I think it may be our biggest year yet.”
“Thank you, Mom, you do a great job organizing it.”
The Flock Foundation isn’t just for one thing. It’s a way to help multiple charities as needs are presented. Some are for individuals having hardships or illness. Other times we donatelarge amounts of funds or items during natural disasters like tornadoes or floods.
“You know,” my mom continues, “it could be the perfect opportunity to bring a date.”
There’s no mistaking what she’s insinuating. I blink, caught off guard. Stepping out like that is a big commitment. Being seen together at an event like that–it’s practically a public announcement. Bigger than going ChattySnap official. And three weeks isn’t far off, especially with Jefferson’s graduation just a week before.
I shift in my chair, fingers tightening around my mug. “I’ll think about it,” I say finally, soft but deliberate. “I’d like to, but you know it’s more than just showing up with a date. What it means and what people will think.”
“Since when did I raise you to care about what other people think?” Mom’s southern twang rises up, her eyes sharp but gentle. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation. You get to decide when, and if, that world gets to see the parts of you. If it makes you happy, I’ll be happy.”
I nod, staring out at the pool again, imagining the flash of cameras, the whispers in the room. Showing up with Jefferson in person would squash every rumor about Jake or anyone else, once and for all. But it would also mean it’s real. Official. And the truth is, I’m not sure I’m ready to decide if it is–ifwe are.
Mom smirks, reaching for her coffee again. “I think he’d look good in a tux.”
“No doubt.” I laugh softly, the sound thinner than I intend. “I’ll consider it,” I say, and leave it at that.
She’s right, but also wrong. Jefferson Parks wouldn’t just look good in a tux, he’d look deadly.
