Page 2 of Second Chance Wedding
Forcing her thoughts back into the tiny, well-locked boxes where she tried to keep them contained, she nodded firmly. “Yup.”
Ana braced herself and shrugged off the past before shifting her gaze away from the beautiful boutique with its ornate moldings and charming coastal southern design just as her son stopped in front of her.
“Mom, give me a hundred bucks,” Benji ordered.
Quinley huffed out an irritated sound and tossed back the last of her champagne, an obvious attempt to not comment on Benji’s lack of manners.
Ana felt her face heat with embarrassment. Not only had Benjamin not greeted Quinley, but her son literally stood there expecting her to simply hand over the money he demanded without so much as a please.
“I’m going to go find Lachlan.”
Analise nodded as her best friend since college walked away, still thinking it odd that Quinley called her fiancé by his last name rather than his first.
“Mom.”
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Due to Benji’s last growth spurt, he stood a solid six inches taller, thirty pounds heavier than before, and topped six feet despite having just turned fifteen. “If you needed money, you should’ve worked with me today like I asked you to.”
“I had plans,” he said in the “Mr. Surly” tone he had perfected over the last two years.
“Gaming with your friends isn’t “plans,” and this date was set in stone months ago. You knew it and could’ve planned your game around it. I needed your help, Benji.”
Her son’s handsome face pulled into a too-familiar snarl.
“It’sBen,” he all but growled. “And I’m here now when I don’t wanna be. You can pay me for that. Just send it to me on your phone. It’s no big deal.”
Pay him for his presence? Seriously? “Why do you want money?” she asked instead.
“To leave. For an Uber and stuff.”
A wave of fury rolled over her. The gala had barely started. “You’re not leaving,” she said, her voice faltering because of the hurt slicing through her like a hot knife. “Benji, I’ve worked really hard for this day. For us. I want the people I love here with me to celebrate.”
A snort met her words.
“Where are they then?”
She gasped at his words, taken aback by the anger and hostility he dished out like the bullets and weapons from the games he favored.
“You opened a store in a hotel because your best friend is screwing the owner. It’s not a big deal or else the Taylors would be here too.”
The Taylorswere what he called his grandparents. Her parents. Not Grandma or Grandpa, Nana or Pops. The Taylors.
In that moment she realized he resented them almost as much as she did, and it didn’t make her proud. It only made the hurt and betrayal worse because her son should’ve never been made to feel that way at all, yet he did due to their absence from his life. “Itisa big deal, and Quinley isnotwhy,” she said. “Why are you being so ugly?”
“I told you I didn’t want to come. I wanted to go to the party with my friends.”
“This is our livelihood, Benji. It’s how I pay our bills,” she said. “It’s how I paid for that tuxedoyoupicked out to wear tonight.”
“Just send me the money so I can go.”
Anger overtook her hurt. Teenage hormones and surliness were one thing but this? “You are not to leave this lobby underanycircumstances.”
He came back with a curse, garnering the attention of an older couple nearby who shot them judgy looks.
“Benjamin Thomas Taylor, don’t you dare speak like that in front of me or anyone else,” she warned with an angry whisper.
One side of his mouth pulled up in a smirk because he’d gotten under her skin and he knew it. Analise grabbed his arm and stepped closer because pulling him to her would be like moving a wall and an angry one at that. “Benji—Ben,” she quickly corrected in an effort to connect with the person resembling her son but acting like a stranger, “you are not to step foot outside those doors. Do you understand me?”
His nostrils flared with every breath, and his face turned dark red with his anger. Her mind flashed back to that of his father, a few years older at the time but just as angry as he’d stared down at her when she’d told him she was pregnant. The things he’d said to her, the smirking egotistical gall of a boy-man unwilling to take responsibility for his actions.
