Page 30 of Regret Me Not
Pierce’s mouth twisted—he couldn’t help it. But he kept the bitterness out of his voice when he talked to his little sister. “Honey, I’m going to go call them now, okay?” He pushed himself up off the couch, where Hal was looking at him with big eyes.
Well, Hal didn’t want him at all—he might as well show Hal who he really was.
“Thank you,” Sasha said on a sigh. “Thanks, Pierce. I’m so grateful.”
“Love you, Sash,” he said quietly. “I’ll take that info now.”
He disconnected and grimaced at Hal. “You don’t want to hear what’s going to happen next.”
“You’re not an asshole,” Hal said staunchly.
Pierce sighed. “You’re such a sweet guy. You wouldn’t know an asshole if….”He came in your mouth in the dark.“If he threw a pillow at your head.” And with that, Pierce limped to the bedroom, just as his phone dinged with Sasha’s text and a number he thought would have changed by now.
He hit the link with a sigh.
“Hello, Atwater residence, Diana Atwater speaking.”
Oh hell—his mother hadn’t changed in the least.
“This is your son, Pierce, Diana. I’ve called to ask you very nicely to stay the fuck away from Florida.”
“Pierce?” For once his mother sounded startled. “Pierce, why on earth would you be calling?”
“You called Sasha, right?”
“Yes, but you made it very clear that you never wished to speak to us again. We honored your wishes. Your sister, on the other hand—”
“Is the same person she was eight years ago, except happy. Why in the hell would you call her up out of the blue and fuck that up?”
He waited for something to happen inside him, something that would relent, some scrap of decency that would let him feel bad about the way he was speaking to his mother. But all he could remember was a rigid back in the front of the car as his mother taxied him and Sasha around town, six days a week, to the relentless activities that he and Sasha had been enrolled in pretty much since preschool. Derrick would get to soccer practice singing Led Zeppelin at the top of his lungs with his father or hanging out for one last bit of conversation with his mom. Pierce would slingshot the fuck out of the back seat like all the demons of hell were on his ass.
Or at least one big freezing demon with perfectly coifed hair.
“I really don’t know what this has to do with you, Pierce—”
“I’m going to be at Sasha’s for Christmas. Did you let her tell you that?”
There was a shocked silence. “No—we didn’t think—”
“What? That Sasha and I talked? I wrecked my car, Mom. Wrecked my car, lost my job, almost died, and got a divorce. And Sasha stepped up to take care of me like I took care of her. I’m staying at a friend’s beach house right now, but you know what? Ipromisedto come back. And Sasha wants me back for Christmas. So I’m going to be there, and Sasha wants me there and not you. Live with that.”
“But… but, Pierce.” And for the first time in his life, Pierce heard his mother’s voice waver. “Our grandchildren. You’d deprive… your father and me of meeting our grandchildren?”
Pierce took a deep breath and thought of forgiveness. “You really want to meet your grandchildren? Start with a card on their birthdays. Start with presents. Start with a phone call once a week where you get to know them.Don’tcall your daughter up and bully her into something she would rather not do.”
“You really don’t think much of us, do you?”
It was not his imagination. She sounded hurt. The last time they’d had this conversation, she’d sounded pissed and superior and smug. She’d told him that his interference would be immaterial—Sasha would come crawling back eventually.
Shit.
Just like Cynthia. Someone had fucking learned.
“No,” he said, his voice dropping. “I don’t. But you still have a chance with Sasha. Not this Christmas you don’t. This Christmas I’m going to be there, in all my pissed-off glory—”
“We could see you too, son,” his mother said hesitantly.
“I’m bisexual. I’m seeing a man right now. No.”
