“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about work. You work too hard.”
Here we go.
“I know you think so, Mother. I’m sorry. But I love what I do. And I don’t know if Walker told you, but I got the Bertini Hotels contract. I’m designing all their luxury hotels around the world.”
Her eyes light up. “Well, that is a lovely hotel. Roman is a dear friend to Walker.” She completely ignores the achievement I just told her about. “You know, he would make a wonderful husband. Walker should set you two up.”
I almost laugh at the irony. If only I could be brutally honest with her.No, Mother, I have not thought about Roman making a wonderful husband, but he did lick my pussy a couple of weeks ago and gave me my first orgasm with a man.She would die.
“No, Walker is not going to set me up with Roman. I work for him right now; it would be highly inappropriate.”
Professional boundaries? Please. That ship sailed the moment his mouth found mine. But she doesn’t know that, and I want this conversation over.
“What’s going on with you and Dad?” I ask to distract her.
She waves her hand. “Your father works too hard. I can’t wait until he retires. Three more years. Then we can travel around the world like Jim and Irene. That’s all she can brag about whenever me and the ladies have brunch.”
Leave it to Mother to worry about topping her friend instead of being happy for her.
Once I’ve made it two hours with her, I am able to leave. As soon as I close my car door, my shoulders fall as the tension releases from my body.
I wish it were different with my mother, but I’ve made peace with the fact that she and I just aren’t the same. She loves me in her own weird way.
An hour later, I’m sitting in my apartment, pouring two glasses of wine when a loud knock starts on my door. It continues the entire time I walk to the door, which makes me laugh.
Well, it’s either Jessie or someone desperately looking for a place to hide out. I open the door to find Jessie standing there in blacksweats and a white T-shirt, blonde hair piled on top of her head, with no trace of makeup.
“Do you have to pee or something?” I ask.
She gives me a strange look. “No. Why?”
We walk into the kitchen.
I laugh as I hand her a glass of wine. “Because you knocked like a crazy person.”
She shrugs. “I just felt like being annoying.”
“Sounds about right.” I grab the charcuterie board I made and head toward the couch. “Follow me. We need to catch up.”
She plops down next to me and grabs a piece of cheese, meat, and cracker, then places it in her mouth, talking while chewing. “Totally, girl.”
I take a sip of wine. “I think, in the excitement of knowing we were finally about to live in the same city again, we forgot that we were now adults with demanding jobs.”
“Right!” she agrees strongly. “I pictured us living it up every weekend and constantly having movie nights and wine during the week. Now, I can’t get out of the office at a reasonable time to save my life.”
“Things are busy at work?” I ask.
She sighs. “I know I should just pack up and go home earlier. But when you know your work is the only thing standing between these kids and a crappy custody battle, it’s hard to walk away.”
I pout my lips and lean my head to the side as I look at my amazing friend. “You have such a big heart, Jessie. But if youoverdo it, you won’t be of any help to these kids because you’ll be burned out.”
I catch a glimpse of doubt in her eyes—something I don’t see very often. She always tries to keep a brave face.
“I know. I keep telling myself I’ll do better.”
“You better. I’m serious. I’m not above calling you every night to make sure you’re not at the office, then barging in and dragging you out.”
That makes her giggle into her wineglass. “I know. I promise I’m working on it. But I don’t want to spend all night talking about that. Tell me about you. How’s the dream job coming?”