Page 42 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
“Yes,” I lied.
“Then what did I just say?”
“Uh…,” I rack my brain but come up empty. “Look, Mom, what do you want me to say?”
“I want you to support me!” She fires back, her voice rising.
“Mom,” I say, my voice strained but firm, “you have been saying this for months. You know where I stand on this. You and Dad need to figure it out yourselves. I am not taking sides.”
There is a beat of silence on her end, and then, softer but no less cutting, she asks, “When are you coming over?”
I sigh. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, you should. Next week will be good. A good friend of mine is visiting, and her daughter’s been asking about you. The poor girl’s been gushing nonstop.”
I close my eyes, counting to three before responding. “If this is another setup, forget it.”
“She’s lovely, Liam,” Mom presses, ignoring me entirely. “You would like her if you just gave it a chance. Liam…”
“Mom,” I cut her off, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’m not interested.”
“Why are you always so difficult?” she huffs. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up over that money-hungry orphan girl, after five years?”
I feel my jaw clench, the anger rising in my chest like a tidal wave. The words "money-hungry orphan girl" hit me like a punch to the gut, and it is all I can do to keep my voice steady.
“Don’t,” I warn, my voice low, tight.
“What? I am just saying…”
“No, you’re not just saying anything,” I snapped, cutting her off.
“Oh, come on, Liam,” she says, exasperation bleeding through the line. “You know I am right. She took the money I offered her without a second thought. What kind of woman in love does that? A decent one would’ve…”
“Stop it, Mom,” I cut in sharply, my hand trembling with the effort to keep my temper in check, “just stop it.”
“I just want what’s best for you,” she says, her voice softening.
I laugh bitterly, the sound hollow even to my ears. “And you think setting me up with some friend’s daughter is what is best for me? Mom, you are relentless.”
She does not reply immediately, and for a second, there is only the sound of her breathing on the other end of the line.
“So, are you still coming to see her?” She asks softly.
I let out a groan. “You are unbelievable, you know that? Maybe focus on fixing your own life before you try to dissect mine.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” she hisses, the warmth gone from her voice now, replaced by icy steel.
“And don’t you dare bring her up again,” I retort, my patience wearing thin.
There is a heavy silence on the line, the kind that feels like a standoff.
“You know,” the words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them, “and you wonder why you and Dad are getting divorced, and why you do not have a good relationship with any of your children? You are so wrapped up in your own issues and your need to control; you never stop to think about what is best for anyone else.”
There is a stunned silence on the other end, and I instantly regret it. I rub my hand over my face. “I’m sorry,” I say, but my tone is cold. “I’m just..., tired, Mom.”
“I didn’t mean to..., I just..., I just…, Liam.” Her voice cracks again, quieter this time.
“Yeah,” I say, my tone softening just a little. “I know. But I am busy. I need to get off the phone. I will talk to you later.”
