“You’ve been avoiding me, Sterling Montgomery.” She holds up a hand. “I get why, marrying a Blackwell...” She hisses out a slow breath as though even the name sends a chill through her.
I round my desk and take the seat facing her. She’s pale, and her face twitches like she’s clenching her teeth together when she’s not speaking.
“If you found a Blackwell to love, then I’m willing to give her a fair shot. That’s it, that’s what I came here to say. And I have to admit, Sterling, I’m pretty devastated you thought you couldn’t come to me first and tell me. You left me to be blindsided in that wedding when the officiant said her name.” She rubs her chest. “That hurt. Still hurts. I’ve come a long way since her father... since that man...” She swallows.
“Since he raped me,” she whispers. “But just because her father was a worthless piece of shit doesn’t mean she has to be too. I can give her a chance. Does she know what her father did to me?”
My mouth is dry. I’m not sure what I expected Mom to say, but this isn’t it. I shake my head.
“Okay, good. There’s no reason for her or your sister to find out.” She tips her head to the side. “You haven’t told Tessa either, have you?”
Another shake because I can’t find words right now, the guilt in my bones is just tooheavy.
“Good. She’d probably hold it against your wife, and I’d rather she give her a fair shot. She seems like a lovely woman, and I don’t know that Tessa would be able to separate Cora from her father.”
I bite down on my lip to stop myself from crying. Mom’s goodness, her ability to love and open her heart even though she’s seen the darkest of humanity is amazing. She never ceases to surprise me.
It hadn’t even occurred to me that my sister may want to bitch slap my wife if she knew Corabelle’s father was the one who changed the trajectory of our entire lives.
“It’s our secret, Sterling.” She leans forward and pats my hand. “That’s the price you have to pay for knowing who Donald Blackwell truly is, and for keeping your beautiful wife’s name from me.”
I nod. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. You only hide from me when you’ve done something wrong. Do you remember when you burned a hole in my favorite dress when you tried to iron it? You were trying to earn extra pocket money but didn’t turn the heat setting down. Thought I wouldn’t see a giant hole in the stomach of my dress. Other than mealtimes I didn’t see you for three full days.”
A chuckle escapes me. “I was always so well intentioned.”
She nods earnestly. “I know you were. You still are.”
Another arrow rockets into my heart. The thought of lying to my mother is even worse than the thought of lying to my fake wife. The list of lies I’ll have to walk back and apologize for in the future is getting longer. I might need a chart, or note cards to keep track of everything.
How the fuck do people cheat on people? I feel like every look Mom casts my way is charged with scrutiny and judgment.
She jerks her head at me. “Are you going to show mearound this place? I didn’t see a coffee cart on my way in, where are you book people hiding the good stuff?” She grins at me, and the guilt intensifies.
“I can take you.” I stand back up from my desk, not knowing what else to say.
“Sterling?” Mom clasps her purse on her lap. “Why are you working here? We both know you don’t need to.” She shifts in her seat, she’s never liked talking about money, mostly because we never had any to talk about. “Did you lose it all?” Her eyes widen like she thinks the worst has happened.
It’s my turn to pat her hands to reassure her. “No, Mom. I didn’t lose it. My investment portfolio is doing well, you don’t need to panic.”
It’s a common question from people in my life. What do I do for finances? With a broken mother, a younger sister, and an absent father, my grandparents took us in for a while until we could figure things out.
Government assistance was rarely enough to even keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I got a part time job as soon as I was able, and between school and college I took a gap year to work my ass off. I saved up every single penny I could, all the while researching investments, stocks, shares, and everything to do with the NASDAQ.
It was only a couple hundred dollars at first, but I love reading and learning, so the more I learned the ballsier I got with my money. While my friends were watching Minecraft and parkour videos on YouTube, I binge watched every video YouTubers Mr. Fired up Wealth and Ale’s World of Stocks ever made. I studied, I learned, I invested, I lost, and I grew.
I don’t have a shit ton by any means, but I have enough that I don’t have to worry about my mother losing her house if she has a relapse into chronic depression and leaves her job at the library.
And yet, I’d give up every single penny I’ve ever earned if it would take back what that bastard did to her.
Her eyes narrow. “You’re sure? You’re okay for money?”
She means “We’re okay for money,” but she hates admitting that her meager librarian’s salary isn’t enough to make ends meet for her, so I help her out month to month. I take her arm and loop it through mine. “Mom, I’m sure. I’m okay.” I pat her hand. “I’m just doing what Grandma used to say, do you remember?”
“Go get yourself a real job, Sterling.”
I chuckle. “She was convinced the stock market was voodoo.”