Page 100 of The Bodyguard Affair
She slaps a hand over her mouth like a child being scolded by her teacher. “Right. Shit. Right. Sorry. I promise I won’t say anything, unless you end up quitting? Then can I tell people?”
“No. It’s still a secret. That includes Mom. Especially Mom.”
“Are you kidding me?” She snorts. “Mom is the last person I’d tell. Though I’d honestly pay good money to see her reaction. She would go nuclear if she knew her daughter wrote smut.”
She would probably pass out.
Amanda squeezes her eyes shut. “This is like the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. When you become famous like Stephen King, can I be your assistant?”
I smile, my heart warmed by her enthusiasm. Amanda’s completely serious, and the best part? There’s not an ounce of judgment in her voice. She’s genuinely excited for me, which makes me feel terrible for keeping it from her for so long. Maybe I should have told her sooner.
After Amanda leaves, Cher emails to tell me the deal announcement is up and that I can post it on my author account. Admittedly, celebrating is a million times less enjoyable when you’re all alone, with no one to share it with. Just me and my green tea. Like it always has been.
Chapter 45
Nolan
Andi:Hey, I hope everything is going well with the packing. I know how busy you are so I wanted to let you know that you don’t have to come to the gala if things are too busy, or if you’re just not up to it.
Andi:Also, I was hoping we could talk soon. Maybe tomorrow after the gala? Let me know.
I grumble down at my phone. I can’t tell if she’s simply being nice, or if it’s a big fat hint that she doesn’t want me there. I’d still planned to go, regardless of my headspace. My mind is still a jumbled mess, but all I want to do at this point is see her. I need to see her, almost as badly as I need air.
At the same time, I don’t know if it would be fair. Not whilemy head is still a complete shitstorm. It’s been a crap few days, to put it mildly, especially after Cody. Tomorrow is officially moving day, and nearly everything is packed, aside from the essentials. With everything going on, I’m starting to wonder whether Denmark is the right call after all. At least in Denmark, I wouldn’t have to feel this kind of pain.
Thankfully, today Mom seems to be in decent spirits.
“Think you’ll miss the house?” I ask her. We’re sitting in the grass at the edge of the lawn next to her garden, which is where she’s most at peace, away from the chaos of moving boxes inside.
The sun casts a long shadow over the lawn, the rickety deck I hated when I first moved in, the overgrown gardens, which are more weeds than flowers. Two months ago, this was the last place I wanted to be, here with my mom. All I craved were those long, adrenaline-filled days on the road, nights alone, never knowing where I’d be next. And now, the prospect of leaving, of leaving her, fills me with dread.
“Yes. But it’s okay,” she says, pulling a weed. “I want to go. Well, that’s an overstatement. No one wants to live in a facility where you’re locked down, forced to eat and do what they want, when they want.”
“That’s fair,” I say, the pit expanding in my stomach.
“But it’s the right thing to do. I keep having these accidents and I don’t want you giving your life up to take care of me like Em did for so long. I can’t stand the thought of being a burden on anyone, not anymore at least.”
My heart pinches. “Mom, you are not a burden.”
She shrugs, her gaze still focused on the weeds. “I’m not sure you would have said the same a couple months ago.”
I bow my head, because she’s entirely right. Coming back here felt like a massive burden, like I’d put my career on pause. “I’m sorry. I feel like shit for the way I handled things with you. Not just moving back, but since you were first diagnosed.”
Her eyes find mine, and the line between her brows intensifies. “What do you mean, how you handled things?”
“When I found out about your diagnosis, I was angry. Not because of how the disease would affect you, but because it meant I couldn’t tell you how I really felt about everything that happened back then. And I knew it meant we needed to take care of you. I hate myself for saying that, for ever thinking it. I didn’t want to move home when Em left. I was angry about it because—”
“I was never there for you when you were younger,” she finishes. It takes me off guard, because she’s never officially acknowledged that before. I always thought she lived in an alternate reality. One where she never abandoned us, where she was never a bad mom. I didn’t know she was ever capable of acknowledging the truth. That surprises me. I always thought Emma was too soft on her. That she wiped the slate clean with Mom and just brushed over the past. “You have every right to hate me,” she says, her eyes welling with tears.
A brick drops heavily on my chest. “I never hated you, Mom. Especially as a kid. All I wanted was for you to come home. And by the time my anger manifested, I’d already gone into the military.”
“It’s the biggest regret of my life. I wasted so much time. And when you said you’d come back, I thought maybe it could be an opportunity to rebuild my relationship with you. Not that I deserve it.” She lowers her head, her voice thick with emotion.
“You do. Of course you do.” I lean forward, catching her gaze. “And for what it’s worth, I’ve loved being here with you. I didn’t expect to, but I did. I want to help. And believe it or not, I like hanging out with you. I’d keep doing this forever if we could.” I say it with my whole chest, because there’s nothing I’d rather do.
She looks up, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, I like hanging out with you, too, honey. But living with your mother isn’t very conducive to dating, is it?”
“Neither is leaving for months at a time,” I admit.
