Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Glad to hear life is so great after your tantrum at my bridal shower.” The grate of her tone sucks the joy from my lungs.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I know you don’t care, but if you knew how many apologies I had to make on your behalf even to the staff. Apparently, you ran over some innocent server and into a celebrity client of theirs. It’s baffling and embarrassing to make a scene like you did and hurtful to steal my spotlight.” And she calls me dramatic. Apple. Tree.
Being berated wasn’t on my agenda tonight, so I close my eyes, wishing I had never answered. Or at least had checked the caller ID before I did. “How many?” I can’t help myself.
“How many what?”
“How many apologies did you have to make on my behalf?”
“Tsk. I don’t have time for this, Poppy.” I know she’s on the tail end of rolling her eyes right now. “It’s late, and Trevor is waiting for me in bed.” My stomach lurches from that visual. She continues, “I thought you would have apologized to me this past week, but I see you never change. Not even after—”
“Not after what, Mom? After an accident that I shouldn’t have survived? Not after you had to hire a nurse to take care of me because you had a trip to St. Bart’s that you booked while sitting in the hospital next to me because my critical condition was too much for you to bear? Or do we need to go back further to talk about how you told Marina’s mother that you could only dream that I could be as talented and beautiful as her daughter after she was crowned homecoming queen?”
“Why are you so ungrateful?”
“Do you remember what you said to me the morning after I won prom queen?”
Her heavy breath is filled with annoyance. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Get me two Tylenol and shut the blinds.” I hate the way that feeling of failure, that I would never be enough returns so easily, sinking to the pit of my stomach.
“I didn’t call to fight you,” she says, her voice honeyed as if I can just set the pain aside.
I’ve held a soft spot for her my entire life. Though I was spoiled with an incredible role model, Marina’s mom, Mimi is mine. I accepted that a long time ago. She’s only capable of giving love that she understands. She was raised with bank accounts and trust funds as a show of love. I can’t expect her to understand the difference. It’s not going to be from Trevor. He is well off but missing the key to happiness—a heart.
I got out. That should be enough, but that I’ve met Laird and felt what true love feels like, there’s no going back to accepting anything less.
“I called you several times last weekend, but you didn’t reply. That’s why I’m calling so late. I was hoping to catch you.”
“You caught me.” I pace my apartment and wander aimlessly, waiting for her to continue.
She says, “I want the menu changed.”
I stop abruptly in front of the mirror. “The menu? What are you talking about?”
There’s a breath taken that I can hear before she replies, “Well, the amuse bouche is unremarkable, two of the appetizers were just served at Mildred Lassiter’s vow renewal ceremony last month, and beef Wellington? Really, darling? I was hoping for pizzazz, electrifying. Not a night at the country club-style menu. That’s more your father’s speed. Trevor and I—”
“This wasn’t a discussion. The menu wasn’t up for votes. This is a favor I was doing for you. If you don’t appreciate classic dishes done at a high level, I’m not the chef for you.” When I turn toward the mirror, my hair is still damp from a hot shower, but my skin is clear, even glowing. I can give that credit to Laird and his mouth.
“You’re so rude. No wonder you don’t have regular clients. Who would put up with this behavior from the caterer?”
“I’m not a caterer, Mom,” I snap with an unintended sharp emphasis at the end. “I’m a chef. I was doing you a favor.”
“Us a favor? I think you’re being disrespectful to me and your soon-to-be stepfather.”
“Stepfather? Are you fucking kidding me?” I sound like Laird and am not upset by it.
“Poppy, stop it right now.” The abrasive tone catches me off guard. “I deserve your best for all I’ve done for you. I was there when your father wasn’t.”
“My father wasn’t there because of you.” My words slice through the phone call, and I regret them the moment they’re said. “I didn’t mean that, Mom. I’m sor—”
“Resubmit a new menu by Sunday. Thank you.” She hangs up on me.
I deserve it.
Does she sometimes? Sure. But I can’t fight uphill forever.
I stare at the blank screen of the phone, still shocked that she called me to demand I do more for her. She’s never asked once.