“And you said you saw her today for the first time since you walked out?”
“Nah, we saw each other briefly at a restaurant the other week, but it was just in passing. Today she was at Jay’s when I went to visit.”
“And?”
“And shit.” I shrugged.
“Boy, that mouth of yours.”
“My bad, Ma. When I saw her, I kinda pulled her into one of Jay’s guestrooms to ask her how she was. I could tell she hasn’t been sleeping well.” I remembered the forlorn look in her eyes and the way it tugged at my damn heartstrings. “I didn’t get much else out of her before she stormed out and left.”
“Kinda like you did, huh?”
Now it was my turn to tilt my head and give her the same stare she’d given me a few moments before.
“Hey, don’t get upset with me. You know you love that girl, and you walked out because ofyourpast, but you’re playing it like it was her keeping all the secrets. I raised you better than that.”
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but nothing came out. My mother had pulled my card.
“Oh, that reminds me, Walter called today.”
I smacked my lips, immediately angered at the mention of his name.
“What’d he want?” Walter was, in the biological sense, my father. But since the man barely had a hand in raising me, I didn’t feel a need to speak to him now that I was an adult. Every few months, he’d try to reach me via my office since he didn’t have my personal phone numbers or email, and when he couldn’t reach me there—because my assistant had strict instructions not to let him through—he’d reach out to my mother.
“Same thing he always wants. To see how you were doing and to speak with you.”
“You didn’t give him my number, right?”
She twisted her lips up. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I know you don’t want him to have it.”
“Good. I still don’t know why you haven’t blocked him from calling you.”
She shrugged. “I feel bad for him.”
I lowered my chin toward her.
“I do,” she protested. “You’re honestly the best thing Walter ever did, except he didn’tdoanything besides, you know, the whole getting me pregnant part. His marriage fell apart; his other two kids are a mess.”
My mother was putting it mildly. Walter Jackson was recruited in the first round of the NBA draft after his senior year of college. I was about a year-and-a-half old by then, and the only reason he even acknowledged me was because my mother had gone to court to get a DNA test. He only played one season in the NBA before an injury sidelined his career. He became a sports agent a few years after that and got married and had two more kids. His marriage only lasted five years, due to his constant philandering, and his other two sons had both dropped out of high school and experienced some legal troubles.
After the DNA test had proved I was Walter’s son, my paternal grandmother and Aunt Lisa made it a point to be a part of my life. My grandmother passed away five years earlier and my aunt...well, that’s another story. Since the death of my grandmother, my father tried to get in contact with me every few months.
“He made his bed,” I scoffed.
“That he did.” I appreciated the fact that my mother didn’t attempt to guilt me into calling Walter. I’d made my feelings very clear on Walter years ago, and aside from telling me when he called, she respected the boundaries I set.
“Have you ever considered more counseling?” my mother suddenly asked.
I gave my mother a perplexed look.
“Xavier, I know you hated it the first time around, but considering where you are in your current relationship status with Chanel, and what happened to your Aunt Lisa? Plus, your less than stellar relationship with Walter? I just think some counseling might help. You never—”
“Okay, Ma. I get it,” I cut her off, not wanting to hear any more. I’d only ever went to counseling at my mother’s insistence when I was younger. I stopped going when I felt I had no use for it and right now I didn’t want to talk about it any further.
“I’ll drop it for now,” my mother said, after a long silence. “Oh, before I forget.” She held up her pointer finger, telling me to hang on. She left the kitchen and turned right down the hall where her home office, my old bedroom, was. When she returned, there was an envelope in her hands. “I need to give these back to you.”
I crinkled my brows looking down at the envelope that readChariot Cruises. It was the cruise I’d bid on months ago at the fundraiser for The Law Office of Combs & Combs.I’d won the bid and given the tickets to my mother.
