“And when did Amalia come back into your life?” Georgina asks, still looking at the photo.
I clear my throat. “About ten years later. The minute I could afford to pay Amalia a salary, she was my first ‘purchase.’ Long before my first sports car. I think I hired Amalia right after I’d turned twenty-four?”
“Aw, that’s so sweet, Reed. That makes my heart go pitter-pat.” She returns the photo to its spot on my desk, her face aglow. “What a lucky little boy you were to have notone, buttwo,mothers growing up.”
I try to return Georgina’s easy smile, but I can’t. The little boy in that photo wasn’t lucky. Far from it. And he didn’t havetwomothers. He barely had one. But only because two halves make a whole. In truth, my mother has never been fully functional. Not like other kids’ mothers. And nothing like the kickass, nurturing mothers I’ve observed as an adult, like Henn’s mother and my sister’s mother-in-law. Hence, the reason my father hired Amalia in the first place: to help my woefully ill-equipped mother with Oliver when he was born. And, as much as I love and appreciate Amalia, and can’t imagine life without her, I can’t honestly say she’s a “whole” mother to me, either, simply because she’s my employee. In reality, I pay her to mother me. I pay her to love me. I’m literally the woman’s job. What would it be like to have a mother like Amalia who’s not on my payroll? I can’t even imagine it.
“You and your mother aren’t close?” Georgina asks tentatively, apparently reacting to something she’s seeing on my face.
Shit. Is this woman a mind reader? “No, we’re close,” I say. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. I don’t talk about my mother. She’s an aspect of my life I don’t share with anyone, other than the staff at her facility. But Georgina’s looking at me like she’s unconvinced. Like she sawsomethingon my face that doesn’t jibe with my words. My cheeks flush. “It’s just that my mother lives on the East Coast, so I don’t get to see her as much as I’d like.”
“Oh,” Georgina says. “That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, I visit her whenever I get to New York on business, though. Which I do about once or twice a month.”
Georgina looks thrilled by that response. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re able to visit your mother so much, Reed. Both for your benefit, and hers. What do you do with your mom when you visit her?”
Fucking hell. Seriously? How did our conversation about my music memorabilia and theForbes“30 Under 30” list wind uphere—withtalking about my mother? And, more importantly, how do I steer it back to the stuff I actually want her to write about?
“Um... well. My mother and I do all sorts of things when I visit her. We play Scrabble. We watchJeopardyand eat chicken pot pies. We do yoga.”
“Yoga? You doyogawith your mom? Oh my gosh, Reed.Swoon.”
I bite my lower lip. She’s swooning overthat? I can’t help returning her beaming smile. Actually, she looks so damned cute right now, so over-the-top adorable, I’m momentarily forgetting to be annoyed by this topic. “Yeah. We do yoga. Play ping pong and gin rummy. My mom loves to paint, so she’s always got her latest masterpiece to show me, too. Whatever Mom wants to do, I’m always there for it.”
Georgina puts her hand on her heart and sighs like a Disney princess looking into a wishing well. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I love that you’re so close to your mother. It makes my heart hurt, it’s so sweet.” Georgina flashes me another beaming smile that makes my heart physically palpitate before she says, “My father always told me, ‘If you want to know the measure of a man, look no further than the way he treats his mother.’”
I nod vaguely, not sure how to respond to that. If you ask me, the measure of a man is the empire he’s built from dirt, with nothing but his blood, sweat, and tears. But okay. Tomato. Tomahto.
“You grew up in LA, right?” Georgina asks.
“Correct.”
“Why did your mother move to the East Coast? Does she have family back there? Did she remarry?”
What the serious fuck? She’s relentless. A dog with a meaty bone. “Uh, she... yeah, my mother grew up in Scarsdale, and has family back there. She’s never remarried, but she does have a serious boyfriend. This guy named Lee. They live together.”
“Oh, how saucy. Good for her.” She laughs. “I think it’s wonderful for your mother to have a companion later in life. Do you like Lee? Is he nice? Does he join in when you and Mom do yoga?”
Seriously, how the fuck am I talking about this with Georgina? I’ve had that same goddamned framed photo on my desk since I moved into this house five years ago, and nobody has ever noticed it or asked me about it. Notonce. But in walks Georgina Ricci, the Intrepid Reporter,and in a matter of minutes, she’s sniffed it out—and then pushed and pushed for more and more. I thought telling Georgina that story in the garage about my father and golf would more than satisfy her hunger for personal details. Is she going to be on my ass for stories like this about my life all week?
I want to say, “Enough about this. Moving on.” But I’m positive that will only backfire on me. Spur her on more. Put her on the scent. So, instead, I say calmly, “Lee is a nice enough guy. He’s really quiet, though, so it’s hard to get to know him. But my mother loves him, and that’s all that matters to me. And, yes, he occasionally joins in on yoga. But just barely.”
Georgina giggles. “I love hearing you talk about your close relationship with your mother. Does she come visit you in California? I bet she’s so proud of you and all you’ve accomplished.”
Jesus Christ. When will this torture end? If Georgina loves mothers so much, maybe she should call up hers and have a nice, long chat, and leave mine alone. But there’s no way I’m going to let Georgina know this is a sensitive topic for me. If I do, my gut tells me she’ll only bemoreintrigued—which would make this one hell of a long week for me.
“My mother visits me occasionally,” I lie. “I’ve actually offered to set her up in a place in Malibu, right on the beach, but she prefers living at her current place with Lee. Lee’s got family in the City, apparently. Plus, he’s got some health issues that prevent him from traveling, so they’ve decided to stay put in Scarsdale for the foreseeable future.”
Georgina glides to me, wedges herself between my thighs, slides her arms around my neck, and nuzzles her nose against mine. “You want to hear something super kinky?”
“There’s no need to ask me that question. My answer to it will always be a resounding yes.”
She giggles. “The fact that you keep that photo on your desk, and visit your mom regularly—and do yoga and play Scrabble with her, and make her happiness your top priority...” She physically swoons in my arms with a heavy, happy, sexy sigh. “Oh, God, Reed. All of thatreallyturns me on.”
The butterflies in my stomach turn into a hard-on—one that’s giving me instant amnesia about the annoyance I’ve been feeling about thistopic. I slide my arms around Georgie and smile broadly at her. “That’swhatturns you on? What kind of sick fuck are you, Georgina Ricci?”
She giggles. “Maybe when you go back East on your next business trip, I could come with you to meet your mom? I’d love to chat with her about what you were like as a little boy.”
