Page 107 of The Write Stuff

“What did you just say?” Mom asked.

Wylie’s eyes were as big as saucers. “Yeah, what did you just say?”

And it was game on. There was no turning back now.

28

TWENTY-EIGHT

Had he just said what I thought he’d said?

I sat in my chair like an idiot and stared at him.

He looked down at me and smiled. “Don’t act so surprised, Wylie. Of course, I love you. How could I not?”

I almost fell over. Wasn’t it too soon?

He seemed to read my mind because he was already shaking his head. “It’s been in the works for 20 years, hasn’t it? We just took a little detour.”

I opened my mouth, unsure what I was going to say. Then I just knew. “I love you too,” I blurted and tried to get up out of my chair. Because I was me, I tripped and fell forward. Thankfully, he caught me. He was always catching me.

“Be careful,” he chided, but he was smiling as he brushed my hair out of my face. “It’s always been you. I just didn’t realize it.”

I was going to cry. There was no stopping me.

Except Eleanor wasn’t done.

“Wait … so you two are together?” Eleanor moved her finger between us, seemingly absorbing the fresh news. “I don’t … I …” She moved her eyes to my mother, and instead of acceptance, there was something else reflected back. It wasn’t a good something either. She was just ramping up. “Are you behind this?”

Mom threw her hands into the air. “Give me a break, Eleanor. I did not plot behind your back to get Wylie in the same place as Huxley. I had no idea they were even together until we got down here yesterday. We found them making out on the sidewalk in front of Wylie’s building.”

“Oh, right.” Eleanor rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t topple over. “I don’t believe you. You arranged all of this to take my son away from me.”

Huxley pressed me against his chest and kissed the top of my head. His heart was only beating a little bit fast. Otherwise, it was strong and true. “Get over yourself, Mom,” he chided. “Not everything is about you.”

Her eyes went wide, and I thought she was going to start speaking Klingon … or maybe whatever language Satan spoke. That’s how evil she looked. She caught herself before she lost it, however. She went ramrod straight as she visibly shook off her irritation. “I don’t have to put up with this.”

She turned on her heel and stalked toward the elevator. Rather than follow her, Huxley sank into his chair. He seemed resigned to losing her.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, staring at him in abject disbelief. “She’s your mother. You have to go after her.”

“No, I don’t,” he fired back. “She’s lied to me for years. She keeps playing the victim. I’m not going after her. For once, she has to come to grips with me and what I want.”

That was all well and good in a fairytale world, but it wasn’t going to happen today. No, today Eleanor needed somebody to listen to her. Apparently, that was going to be me. “I’ll get her.”

“No!” Huxley made a grab for my wrist but missed. I left him to stew — he was Eleanor Ambrose’s son, so he knew how to do it — and followed her to the elevator.

She looked over her shoulder, clearly checking for her son, and scowled when she saw me. “Don’t follow me, Wylie,” she ordered. “I don’t have anything I want to say to you right now.”

I believed her, but I got on the elevator with her anyway when the door opened.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her eyes flashing with an emotion I couldn’t quite identify. “I’m done here.”

“No, you’re not.” I was still on the elevator when the doors closed, and we rode it to the ground level in silence. Once we were off the elevator, I grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the right, to where a small square — they were all over the place in Savannah — was situated. I didn’t release my grip, and she didn’t fight me as hard as she could have. Once we reached a bench, I motioned for her to sit.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, raising her chin.

“Stop,” I pleaded, shaking my head. “Just … stop. He’s your son. You love him.”