“I want you the way a woman has always wanted a man: to be hers. No contract. Just like any regular relationship.”
“Jennifer,” he says, his face breaking out in a sudden smile. “That’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” I reply with a smile.
“And I’ve been thinking,” he continues quietly. “I meant it when I said a week with you was nowhere near enough. The way I feel about you, I don’t even think alifetimewould be quite enough ...”
He’s looking at me, as if waiting for me to respond, but this time I reallydon’tknow quite what he’s getting at.
“What exactly do you mean?” I say, puzzled.
He takes my hand, and then he says the words, word Ineverexpected him to say ...
Epilogue
Jennifer
The gleamingblack Bentley looks so out of place: parked by the curb in this run-down neighborhood, no doubt attractingallkinds of unwanted attention. I give Trent a sheepish smile, before turning to take Marcus’s hand in mine as we both cross the street to approach the tumbledown house my mom currently calls home.
“You know don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” I murmur.
“What the hell are you talking about!” Marcus grins back. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting your mom for ages. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Well, just don’t expect too much,” I say, hoping to God she’s on her best behavior with him. I mean, I can’t imaginewhatshe’s gonna say.
I knock the door and then wait, my heart hammering in my chest before eventually the door opens, just a crack, my mom’s face peeking out, before it breaks into a big smile when she sees me.
She throws open the door and steps onto the porch, giving me such a hug that it knocks the air out of me.
“How’s my baby girl?” she asks.
“I’m good, Mom,” I say, stepping back to take a good look at her.
Okay. It seems like that money I wired her hasn’tallgone on booze. I mean, she’s had a haircut, which is something of a first, and her clothes don’t look too shabby either. But I can still smell it, that familiar cloud of alcohol that seems to follow her around wherever she goes ...
“Mom, this is Marcus,” I say, unable to hide the nerves in my voice. “And Marcus, this is my mom, Wanda.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs Adams,” he says, as polite and gracious as if he were talking to some high class society woman.
It takes my mom aback a little, and she obviously doesn’t know quite what to say, as he leans in and kisses her warmly on the cheek.
“Well?” I say. “Aren’t you gonna invite us inside?”
As she turns to lead us in to the gloomy old house – as always, none of the curtains are drawn even though it’s a lovely bright day outside – I hear her muttering under her breath, repeating what he said to herself incredulously,Pleased to meet you, Mrs Adams.
“Mom,” I chide under my breath, which shuts her up.
My heart sinks when I see the state of the living room, and obviously she did spend alotof the money I wired her on booze after all, which was what I was fearing. I can see empty vodka and scotch bottles all over the place, and a blue cloud of cigarette smoke hangs in the dim dusty air around our heads, making my eyes water.
The first thing I do is throw open the curtains and crack the windows, and then we sit down on the beat up old couch, and she takes the single chair near the window.
“I’d offer you some coffee or something,” she mumbles, “but I don’t have any ...”
“That’s okay, Mom,” I say.
There’s an awkward pause, and I can tell that Marcus is looking around the room – he’s probably never set foot in somewhere so rundown as this before, and although he’s doing his best to stay calm and relaxed, he must be feeling kind of awkward, too ...
“So Mom,” I say, feeling my heart pound as I decide to just blurt it out – the thing I’ve been rehearsing in my head for so long now, practicing and practicing, “I think we need to talk about something.”
