Chapter Nineteen
It tooka full week before I was ready to leave the office for more than a few hours, but when I was, I didn't think twice about going.
The drive to Montauk was loaded with memories of my recent journeys, and I was quick to fill the miles with phone calls as not to spend the time reexamining the highs and lows I'd experienced with April.
Clients in need of hand-holding and reassurance—mostly billionaires and politicians—were on the top of my list. They always wanted to hear that they were my first priority, and I never suggested otherwise.
Those in the know—Washington insiders, the intelligence community, SEAL Team veterans—knew something hadn't been right in my shop, and they were hungry for details. For them, I had a simple story of stumbling across information that belonged in the CIA's hands and seeing that it got there.
That left my inner circle—Will, Jeremy, and my mother—and they required an update on my schedule for the coming weeks. The first two were quick calls, and I appreciated the fuck out of Will and Jeremy's ability to keep the conversation focused on business.
My mother had no such ability.
"Redtop Securities, this is Trish," she chirped.
"Hey, Mom," I said. "I know you've been trying to get a hold of me—"
"What a darn understatement," she interrupted. "But I understand things have been busy around the office."
"Also an understatement," I replied. "There were a few hiccups, but now we're back on track. I'm actually taking some time away from D.C. I'm heading out to the Hamptons now. I've delegated several pitch meetings so there's no need to cancel anything. I don't want any new clients calendared until I have a chance to review and decide who should take the meeting. I want my schedule blocked for the next two weeks."
She murmured in agreement as her fingers clattered against the keyboard. "Done and done," she said. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
I didn't know how to answer that. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"You haven't spent more than a couple of days at the shore in years, and now you're going back for an extended stay," she said. "This makes me think you met someone."
"There is someone," I confessed. "But it's complicated. Really complicated."
"Well," she said, pausing to sip her soda. "I know how difficult that is."
I narrowed my eyes and scowled at the road ahead. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" I asked.
"I've decided that I've had my fill of the dating scene. I understand it makes you uncomfortable that I'm single and ready to mingle, and I don't want that," she said.
There was no right answer here. "Mom, no," I said with a groan. "Listen. If you want to get out there and meet some guys, I'll support your choices. I don't want you basing this decision on me. You're allowed to mingle, and I'm sorry that I've made you feel badly about mingling."
"No, this is what I want," she said, resolute. "I've had a lot of fun and quite a few pleasurable experiences—"
"Let me stop you right there," I interrupted. There was definitely a vein popping out of my forehead right now. "Nope, we do not need to have a conversation aboutexperiences. Not at all."
Her nails tapped against her soda can for a long beat before she continued. "I hope you can accept that I'm not interested in marriage either."
"Accept it?" I asked, incredulous. "What are you talking about? It's not for me to accept or reject. Like I said, I'll respect your choices regardless of whether you're in a serious relationship, casually dating, or engaging in some other"—I actually choked on my words—"arrangement. Do what makes you happy, Mom. You deserve it."
"I appreciate that, Jordan. Thank you, sweetie," she said. "You're right about doing what makes me happy. I think you'd like Marco."
"Oh, really?" I grumbled.
"Of course," she replied. "He's moving in with me next week, and I can't wait for you to meet him."
"Oh, fuck me, Moses," I said under my breath.
