Page 105 of The Write Stuff

I assumed that Wylie and I would go to the reader event just the two of us, like normal, but Aggie insisted on being part of it.

“It will be fun,” she said as we walked to The Grove Savannah, which was another rooftop restaurant. “I love interacting with readers.”

Wylie gave her mother some serious side eye. “You just want everybody to get excited because the great Agnes Quincy is participating.”

“I like being adored, Wylie. There’s no harm in it.”

Thankfully, the hostess had no problem moving us to a bigger table for dinner. Once introductions were made, Bree got right to the heart of matters.

“So, you’re not angry about your daughter fornicating with your sworn enemy’s only son?” she asked as she sipped her cocktail.

Aggie gave her an amused look. “Not in the least. I’ve always loved Huxley.”

“Don’t say he was like a son again,” Wylie warned, causing me to grin.

I took the opportunity to scan the rooftop. They had a section closed off for the event, which would start in an hour, and it was a nice night. It was the calm before the storm essentially, with my mother being the storm.

My attention was drawn to the elevator doors as they opened — the restaurant was busy but not overflowing with people — and when a woman exited the elevator, I was convinced I was seeing things.

I blinked. Nope, it was the same woman. Then I blinked again. Nope, still the same woman.

Eleanor Ambrose had arrived, and she was a full day early.

“Oh, my …” My mouth fell open, and I lost the ability to speak or reason.

Wylie followed my gaze, and genuine horror washed over her lovely features as reality set in. “No way.”

Aggie turned to look, and she was grim as she locked gazes with my mother. “She did always like making an entrance.”

And that was it. That was all the time I got to come to grips with things, because my mother looked at Aggie, then at me, then at Wylie, and then at Mick. Then she was storming in our direction like a runaway freight train.

And we were all trapped on the tracks as she barreled toward us.

I stood because it was the only thing I could think to do. “Mother, this isn’t what it looks like.” That was, of course, a stupid thing to say. This was exactly what it looked like.

“Oh, really?” Mom stormed to the side of the table and planted her hands on her hips. “This isn’t you playing nice with the woman who stole my husband?”

“Oh, wow,” Bella said as she tried to shrink down in her chair. “This is about to get ugly.”

“So ugly,” Bree agreed. She looked gleeful. When her eyes turned to me, there was suspicion there. “Mr. I Don’t Know Why It Happened, you have some explaining to do.”

I glared at her before turning back toward my mother. “We should go somewhere and talk.”

That was wishful thinking. My mother had never met a scene she didn’t want to make. “Oh, I think we’ll talk right here,” she seethed. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her this angry.

“Eleanor, we should go someplace more private,” Aggie insisted.

“We?” Mom challenged. “You’re not even involved in this. This is a conversation between my son and me.”

“It’s not,” Aggie replied. “It’s a conversation between all of us.” She shot me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to do it a specific way, but obviously that’s not going to work.”

Obviously. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re early, Mom. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“Because that would make it easier to pretend that you weren’t fraternizing with the enemy?” she growled.

“Wow,” Bella said. “This is like bearing witness to a soap opera in real time. I’m completely freaked out.”

“Shh,” Bree admonished. “This is like the best show ever.” She shot me a thumbs-up. “I’m not even mad that you lied about not knowing why your mother went all WWE on Aggie all those years ago.”