Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love #3) (16 page)

I had a surprise visitor the next day at work.

“Knock, knock, darling.”

But she didn’t really knock. She just came right in.

“Mom. Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I was doing some shopping down this way and thought I’d stop by.” She tucked her silvery bob behind one ear. She’d gone completely gray in her thirties, so any day now I was expecting to wake up with a beard and head full of white, but so far it was only a few strays here and there.

“Come in.” I gestured to the chairs in front of my desk. Since leaving my uncle’s firm, I worked for myself and rented office space in a building downtown. Working from home sounds good in theory, but I did it for a while and found it hard to separate home from work—I found it much easier to get shit done in both environments when I wasn’t tempted to avoid work in one by taking up a chore in the other.

“I was wondering if you had time for lunch, actually.” She raised her eyebrows at me hopefully.

I frowned at the work on my desk and rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know, Mom. I have a lot of things to get done before a meeting at Scotty’s school at two.”

“Oh? About the IEP?”

“Yes. Among other things.”

“Well, let’s grab a quick bite and you can fill me in. I like to know how things are going with him, and we haven’t had a chance to talk much. You’re so busy these days.”

Fucking Mom Guilt. Nothing worse. “I know, Mom. Sorry, I just don’t have a lot of spare time.”

“I’m not blaming you, darling,” she said breezily. “I merely want to know how you’re doing.”

I fought off the groan building in the pit of my stomach and turned it into more of an exasperated sigh. “I wish you would have called first. I could have planned for lunch with you.”

“You’d have turned me down. I know you.” She arched a brow at me, then smiled cajolingly. “Come on. Humor your old ma. I won’t be around forever, you know.”

I rolled my eyes. She might have just turned sixty, but she was as healthy and active as someone half her age. “OK. A quick bite.”

She beamed. “Thank you. Shall we go now or do you need to finish something up?”

“We can go now.” I closed my laptop. “I’ll pick up my dry-cleaning too.”

“I could have done that for you today.” She was saying it to be nice, but somehow I felt it as another scolding—like I should have told her I had dry-cleaning to be picked up.

“I didn’t know you were coming down, Mom. Remember?”

“I know, but if you need help with things at home, I’m happy to do it,” she said, leading the way out of my office, through the little lobby area I shared with an accountant and an attorney. “The drive isn’t that far, and I’d love to see you and Scotty more often.”

I shut my office door and followed her out, taking deep breaths.
She’s not saying this to criticize you. She’s simply offering to help.
“I know, and I appreciate it. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

We walked to a nearby diner and were seated at a small table near the window. After looking at the menu, I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and she ordered a Reuben. After my iced tea and her Diet Coke arrived, she put her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands.

“So tell me what’s new. How is Scotty? At the birthday dinner, he seemed very preoccupied with his electronics.”

“His iPad. He earns breaks with it when he does what he’s supposed to.”

“Don’t you think he should do what he’s supposed to just because? Won’t he always expect a reward for behaving properly if you keep doing this?”

I stiffened. “If this lunch is about criticizing my parenting, it’s over.”

She held up her hands. “It’s not, it’s not. I’m sorry. You know best.”

“I do.”

“I only worry that as he gets older, it will get tougher on him. The school and his peers aren’t going to treat him like a baby.”

“I don’t treat him like a baby, Mom. I treat him like he needs to be treated to get through his day and feel good about himself.”

“OK, darling, don’t get upset. Without seeing you two every day like I used to, I don’t know the situation. Tell me about the IEP.”

I filled her in on things at school, and she appeared genuinely concerned. “He wet himself? On purpose?”

“Yes. Hoping that it would delay going to school, so he could miss the math test.”

“Oh, the poor thing. I hope he doesn’t do that at school. The kids would be so cruel.”

“I worry about that too,” I admitted. “But I can’t control how other people react to him. I’m trying to help by getting him a few more accommodations at school, but it’s an uphill battle. And I hate those meetings.”

“Why?”

“Because the focus is always on what he’s not doing, or what he’s doing wrong. He has a lot of gifts, and he’s so smart. Why can’t they figure out a way to help him learn based on what he does
well
? Why force a kid to take a test the same way as every other kid when, neurologically, he is not like those kids?”

“What would help?”

“More time. A separate room without any noise or distractions for testing. Allowing him to give verbal answers.”

“I thought you wanted him in a regular classroom.”

“I do. I’m talking about having a safe space at school where he can go if he needs it. Maybe an aide for at least part of the day.”

“I see.” She lifted her shoulders. “That sounds reasonable.”

“You’d think.”

Our sandwiches arrived, and she waited until the server had refilled our drinks and left before saying anything else.

“OK, I can’t take it anymore. Tell me about her.”

For a second, I blanked. But one look at her eager expression, and I realized. Fucking Monica. I picked up one half of my sandwich. “Her name is Jillian Nixon. She’s a pediatrician.”

“Is she related to Dale and Bunny Nixon?”

“No clue. But I don’t think so. She grew up on a cherry farm on Old Mission.”

“Hm. Maybe a different family, then. I think Dale was originally from downstate.” She looked a little disappointed, then flapped a hand before picking up her sandwich. “Oh well. So tell me more. Monica mentioned you met her at a wedding?”

“Yes.” I gave her a sanitized version of our meeting eleven years ago and told her we’d run into each other—sort of literally—at Sebastian’s wedding.

“The lawyer?”

“Yes. His wife is Jillian’s sister.”

“How nice.” She smiled and touched her lips with her napkin. “So you’ve been seeing her about a month?”

“About that.”

“And it’s going well?”

“It is.”

I said nothing further, and she sighed dramatically. “For heaven’s sake, Levi. You’re killing me.”

“How so?”

“Because this is the first woman you’ve talked about in years, and I’m thrilled for you, and you won’t give me more than the vital stats and two-word answers.”

I swallowed a bite. “It’s new.”

“Another two words. Can I at least have four please?”

Taking another bite, I chewed and thought. “I like her a lot. There, that’s five.”

Another sigh. She put her Reuben down, a hurt expression on her face. “You’re punishing me. I get it.”

“Do you?” Haha, another two words. I kind of liked this game.

“Yes. You moved out because I was all up in your business, as Monica tells me, and now you’ve shut me out completely. Am I really that bad?”

I popped the final piece of my sandwich in my mouth and thought about how to answer that. “Sometimes.”

“Is that really why you moved out?”

“Monica said that?”

“Only because I was griping about never seeing you. She said you’ve been busy and told me you’d been seeing someone. I was shocked that I had no idea. And hurt. I want to be in your life, Levi. And Scotty’s life.”

“I know, Mom. And I want you to be in it. But you have to stop telling me I’m doing everything wrong.”

She put a hand on her chest. “I never said you’re doing everything wrong!”

“Well, that’s how you make me feel. Look, I know you think I screwed up and got someone pregnant.”

“Levi!” She sat back, her expression stunned, maybe even hurt. “I have never said that to you.”

“I guess I just felt it then. Like Monica did everything right—college, marriage, children—and I was the fuckup.”

“That is not me talking.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “My grandchildren are the light of my life and every one of them was destined to enter this world and be loved to pieces by me, whether they were a surprise or not. And your dad and I did not raise any fuckups.”

I had to smile at hearing her use that word, but it was short-lived. “You criticized me so much as Scotty got older that it made me feel that way. Like you thought I couldn’t possibly be mature or smart enough to handle parenting a child on my own.”

“Not once did I think that. All parents criticize their children’s parenting skills! It’s our right as grandparents!”

I considered that. “Maybe I was extra sensitive, then. I already felt bad enough that Scotty was going to grow up without a mother, and as he grew and it was clear he wasn’t a typical kid, I felt even less sure of myself.”

My mother leaned forward and spoke softer. “I could see that, Levi. So I tried to help the best way I could. I managed to raise two beautiful, smart, amazing people. I thought I had something to offer you.”

“You did,” I said. “You offered me and Scotty a home and helped me take care of him when he was a baby. I needed that, and I’m so grateful. But I got to a point where I really wanted to find my way on my own, and I couldn’t do that living in your house.”

Her shoulders slumped a bit. “I see your point. It’s hard not to mother your child just because he’s an adult, especially when he lives with you. I guess I saw you struggling and couldn’t resist trying to make it all better.”

“You can’t.” My tone was firm.

“Back to two words, huh?”

I cracked a tiny smile.

“I saw that,” she teased. Sighing, she sat up straight again. “OK. So no more criticizing. I will listen when you need to talk and try my very hardest to let you do things your way and not say a word, even if I disagree.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“And in return,” she went on smoothly, “please tell me more about Jillian. Monica said she hasn’t met Scotty?”

“Not yet.” I focused on the other half of my sandwich.

“I think that’s wise, really I do.”

I looked at her to see if she was being facetious, but her expression was earnest. “I think you two need time to get to know each other before you bring her into his life.”

“I agree.”

“You don’t want to introduce her too soon and confuse Scotty about who she is, especially if it doesn’t work out. And for her sake, you don’t want to make it seem like you’re simply looking for a replacement mother.”

“She would never think that. And it couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Plus you need time alone together. Romantic time,” she said authoritatively. “Just because one of you has a child doesn’t mean you shouldn’t treat her to a proper courtship.”

I almost laughed.
Yes, that’s exactly what I was doing against her refrigerator Saturday night. Treating her to a proper courtship.
“What was that about promising not to meddle?”

He face went blank as she picked up her Diet Coke. “I never said anything about not meddling. No mother in her right mind would ever promise not to meddle. I promised not to criticize so much.”

“Oh.”

“And anyway, I hope you’ll like this meddling, because I want to do something for you.”

“What’s that?”

She grinned. “How about if Dad and I come down and stay with Scotty for a weekend? Or even a night? Don’t get mad, but Monica told me what happened Saturday night. I felt terrible for you.”

I groaned, setting my sandwich down. “Fucking Monica.”

“Well, you know she can’t keep a secret, darling. You can’t lie and she can’t keep a secret. That’s always been the way you two are.”

I sucked up some iced tea, wondering if it was too early for some whiskey.

“Anyway,” she went on breezily. “What do you think of my offer? I promise to do everything exactly the way you want me to. Scotty can stick to his regular routine in his normal environment, your dad and I get some quality time with him, and you get alone time with your lady friend.”