At work, I keep it professional. She knows not to get personal with me. The few times she tried, I threw her out of my office. I don’t meet with her alone. There’s always someone else in the office or meeting room. Jolene has started joking that she’s my chaperone.
I make myself a cup of coffee, itching to get the hell out of this house Mia turned into a home. Once she’s back, I want to ask her if we should sell it and start somewhere new.
I used to love this place, but I see it now for what it is—four walls and a roof. What I loved was her in it. Without Mia, it’s just a shell, a place to sleep, nothing more.
She took its soul out the door with her.
The coffee machine drips the last of my coffee into the cup when the doorbell rings. It’s jarring to hear the sound; it’s been a while since anyone visited me.
I wonder if it’s Mia. Is she coming back?
Excitedly, I get to the door and almost close it when I see who’s on the other side.
I really have no time for my mother, fittedinto a cream-colored Chanel summer suit. Her expression is a brittle mask of grace that’s…cracking around the edges.
“What do you want?” I don’t mean to sound cold, but I’m already tightening inside.
“When did you become this rude?” She pushes past me into the foyer.
Speaking of rude!
“I need to talk to you,” she announces.
I shut the door, but don’t move closer. “Make it fast. I have somewhere to be.”
She twists the strap of her Prada purse in her hand. For a long moment, she doesn’t speak. Then, “I’m being arraigned on Friday.”
Right! I’d all but forgotten about that.
“Then I hope you have a good lawyer.”
“Aiden,” she snaps. “You’re my son.”
“And Mia is my wife. Or have you forgotten the part where you assaulted her outside a restaurant in front of God and all of Burlington?”
She stiffens. “She provoked me.”
“Mom, Mia can’t provoke a freaking fly, so cut the crap.” I cross my arms. “Why are you really here?”
Her mouth opens. Closes. “I can’t go to jail. You need to tell her to drop the charges.”
I let out a short laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
She recoils.
“I told Mia she could do whatever she wanted. And you know what? She didn’t even want to press charges. Katya insisted. That’s how not-vindictive she is. So maybe you should be glad it’s not worse.”
Her mascaraed lashes blink fast. “You’re turning your back on your own mother.”
I feel something in me, something long tangled up in guilt and obligation, break loose.
“It’s not that hard to do, Mom,” I say evenly. “The way you have treated my marriage, my wife, and my happiness, the way Dad has treated me, I don’t feel I owe either of youanythingat this point.”
She’s about to say something, but I hold up a hand to shut her the hell up. “I won’t ask Mia to drop the charges.”
Her lips tremble. “She did this, didn’t she? The vindictive bitch.”
I shake my head, more than a little irritated. “See, you come into our home and call my wife names. This is why I don’t care what happens to you. You hit her. You deserve to pay for it.”
