Page 165 of Wild Card

The wine is served and uncomfortable silence resumes. I sip mine numbly, unsure what is happening in the media room, but praying it’s over soon.

“How’s your business? I’ve read some wonderful things about your growth over the last few months.” Mom opens a safe subject.

While Rowan assumes the small talk, I peek over and observe Mom. Her appearance isn’t ragged but not nearly as polished as normal. She’s lost weight and her clothes hang loosely, her make-up is subtle, and her jewelry is basic. The mom I know is an accessory queen. Even a simple outing includes her favorite bangle bracelets and statement earrings.

All of that is missing. She’s wearing her wedding bands and a pair of birthstone studs my dad gave her years ago.

“Rowan, I owe you a long overdue apology for the occurrence in your salon.” At her statement, my eyes fly from their inspection to her face, noting her lips quivering. “We raised our children with respect and manners. Those are values we hold close.”

She could have hauled off and slapped the shit out of me and it would hurt less than her words.

Rowan’s face hardens and she slams her glass on the marble surface with a clink so loud, I expect it to shatter. “Are you inferring Willow acted out of disrespect and rudeness?”

Mom blanches at her suggestion. “No, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“There’s not a way to misinterpret. From what I’ve seen and witnessed in this short time, Willow and Chase are wonderful people, Stacy. You should be apologizing for that whack job of their sister.”

Rowan’s defense sends a stream of love and gratitude dashing through me. I sit up, the numbness and hurt fading.

Then my mom does something so rare, I can’t remember the last time it happened.

She breaks down. Her hands go to her face, shoulders drooping, and body quaking. A quiet sob escapes. “I know! I’ve been trying to apologize and you won’t take my calls.”

Her outburst is completely out of character.

I’m not sure exactly what to do, but I have to get this under control before it becomes more drama. “Stacy, you called me a handful of times in the last few weeks. We haven’t spoken in a year. Why would I answer?”

At my use of her formal name, her cry deepens. “I’m your mom.”

“This is true, but being a mom isn’t a selective choice. It’s not like one of your handbags that complements your outfit best. You chose Rylee.”

She shakes her head, taking the napkin Rowan offers. “I didn’t. It may seem like that, but I didn’t. My life is in shambles because I didn’t?—”

“Not fucking happening.” A deafening voice has me twirling right into the hard wall of Talon’s chest. His hands come to my neck and tilt it upward. “You okay?”

I want to tell him I’m fine, especially now that he’s here, but the absolute ferocious rage in his features has me shivering. His eyes relax a bit and he kisses me quicky before focusing over my shoulder.

“Want to explain why you’re bawling when you brought this shit on yourself? Your life is far from in shambles. Karma is a bitch and you feeling the sting is no one’s problem but your own.”

“Sterling?” Mom’s weary voice is a plea.

“Talon, we discussed keeping this civil.”

“That was before I walked into a woman sniveling about her poor life choices and backing Willow into a corner, forced to listen to that bullshit. Willow wants to hear her out, it’s on her terms.”

I link my fingers with his, lowering them from my neck. Stacy may not be my problem, but It’s best to move this along before Talon verbally annihilates her. I face them, keeping in Talon’s hold. Ford is next to Rowan, his face terse and alert.

Everyone is waiting for my lead.

“I appreciate trying to shield me from the next melodramatic episode in what has become the season of Willow Richards’ life, but you’ve had your macho-man powwow and it’s time to explain the reason for this little family visit.”

I’m pretty proud of the strength in my voice. Talon squeezes my hand and places his mouth at my ear. “Macho-man powwow?”

“Don’t distract me, Talon Simms.” Last time I was in any room with my mother, I was a crumbling mess. No room for diversions now.

She picks up on my determination, dabbing her cheeks and scanning everyone in the room. “Apologies for my emotional eruption. Sterling, what have you shared?”

“Everything,” he states, jutting his chin to Talon. “Not worth the headache of this guy.”

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