The Wrong Time Read online

  “Am I still okay to leave a little earlier today?” I ask, even though I asked this at breakfast.

  “Stop asking. It’s fine. I can’t say I’m relaxed about you meeting her alone, though. I still think I should come. Maybe sit in a corner? Now I’m free for the afternoon, I can—”

  I cut him off. “No. It’s not necessary. I’ll be fine. It’s one coffee.” I’m not going to have him sitting there staring at me, risking Mom recognizing him. That could cause all sorts of problems, not only for me but for him.

  “I can be good,” he teases.

  I lean around so I can see his face. “You’re very good.” I wink, not being able to resist a little flirting. Adam gives me a sly look before I continue, “But I need to do this on my own. I’ll be fine. After all, she is my mother. Then, I’m actually thinking about visiting your mom afterward.”

  “I know she’d like that. Any reason why?”

  “No reason. I enjoy spending time with her, and I know she loves having her hair brushed.”

  “She does.”

  “Actually, I think there is a reason. She treats me how I imagine a mother would treat their daughters. When her mind is clear, she treats me how my dad used to, and I like it. I really do. I have a lot of respect for your mom, and if I can do something simple like brush her hair or listen to her tell a story just so she has a little company, then I’m happy to do it.”

  Adam twists his head around, so he’s facing me and smiles. “You know you’re amazing, don’t you?”

  “You are.” I glance at the door to make sure we have no spectators and give him a quick kiss. But he uses his index finger to call me to him and pulls me in for a much longer and hotter kiss.

  After a few moments, I break away and mumble, “Woah.” Before touching the corners of my lips to make sure no lipstick is out of place, I check his lips for any traces.

  “We’ll have to continue this later,” he murmurs, and I nod in agreement. My pussy is already tingling at the thought.

  “I’d better go before I’m late.” I stand, smoothing my pinstripe skirt and white blouse. “Try and enjoy the dinner tonight. I expect you to take me there one day.” I smile and give him a playful tap.

  “Georgia, I’d much prefer to be there with you than those pains in the ass, but, of course, I will take you.”

  I give him a chaste kiss before running out the door of his office, grabbing my things and heading toward the elevators. After putting on my fingerless gloves, I double-check my old cell is in my bag and switched on, on the off-chance Mom cancels. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

  Deciding to take an Uber today, in case she tries to follow me afterward, I put my request for a car into the app only to have one a few minutes away. I tap my foot on the elevator floor as if it’s going to hurry it down to the ground floor.

  After the doors open, I walk through the foyer. Isabel’s down here too, though she’d have no need to be at this time of the day. She sees me walking by and gives me the most plastic smile I’ve ever seen. Me being me, I politely smile back at her and keep walking.

  Fernando’s on the front desk. While I usually love to stop and have a chat with him, I don’t have the time today.

  “Taking an Uber, Georgia?” he calls as if he’s checking where I’m going.

  “It’s easier today,” I call back. “I’ll pick up my car a little later.”

  Double-checking the license plate of the car that’s arriving, I stand on the curb, hoping it’s here in the forty-five-second timeframe the app is telling me.

  Luckily for me, it pulls up just as I blacken the screen on my cell.

  Jumping inside the car, I give the driver the address again, and we take off.

  My heart starts beating faster and faster the closer we get. I feel nervous, a little nauseous, and one part of me really wants to tell the driver to turn around and take me back to the office.

  No, you’ll get through this, Georgia. One step at a time. That’s all you need to do. Step by step. Ashleigh’s words repeat over and over in my head.

  I’m so glad I made an appointment with her tomorrow as I know this meeting will be something I’ll need to discuss with my therapist.

  Pulling up at the coffee shop, I see how busy it is, and I close my eyes while taking a deep breath.

  There, sitting in the front window dressed in her favorite Chanel dress suit, is my mom.

  Fuck. She’s early too.

  It’s too late to run now. She’s seen me.

  I may as well get this over and done with.

  Georgia

  My heart is racing as I step inside Dales on Monroe. It’s packed, not a chair free, besides the one Mom is obviously saving for me.

  The one blessing, I can’t see Alfred anywhere in the shop. While it doesn’t help my heart rate, I can breathe a sigh of relief that I don’t have to see that douche nor deal with him.

  Mom’s lips are tight, but they’re curved up at the sides. I’m assuming this is her attempt at smiling. It’s a facial expression that she wouldn’t have had much practice at achieving. All of the memories I have of my mom, good or bad, all involve her with a stern expression. Her wedding photographs with Alfred are of her resting bitch face. Most women would be beaming after marrying the supposed love of their life, but not Mom. Even the single wedding picture I’ve seen of Dad and my mother, he was grinning from ear to ear, and she had the expression of a run-away bride. Maybe that should have been Dad’s warning sign.

  She stands as I near the table, and I give her the same smile she’s given me. But I freeze when she takes a step toward me, my mind beginning to run away with so many thoughts.

  Is she going to hurt me?

  Or grab me?

  Will Alfred come out of hiding from behind a drink refrigerator?

  Mom leans in and gives me the most awkward hug known to man, and I just stand there and take it, not sure about what to do or how I’m meant to be reciprocating.

  Within a few seconds, it’s over, and she gestures for me to sit. I scan the room again, in case Alfred’s here, but I can’t see him anywhere. I’m on edge, much more than I thought I’d be. Mom seems to be somewhat polite, I guess, even though she hasn’t said a word yet.

  I take a seat, placing my handbag on my lap and take my gloves off, shoving them in the side pocket. I figure if I need to make a quick getaway, having my bag there rather than on the floor is a safer move.

  “Nice to see you, Georgia. You’re looking fine.”

  Fine? Really? Is that all she has to say?

  “Thank you. You look nice… and tanned.”

  “A few weeks in Spain did this to me. It was just what I needed. I know I’m early, I’m between jobs at the moment and didn’t have anything on, so I thought I’d come and wait for you. Lucky, I did. This place is very popular.”

  I purse my lips and give her a single head nod as a reply. This is so awkward. This was a mistake, and I don’t want to be here. I’m surprised she no longer works with the accounting agency she was with for more than ten years. It wasn’t a high-paying job. She made out like she was more important there than she was, but my guess was she was no more than a self-glorified receptionist.

  Luckily, I’m saved from Mom’s small talk for a couple of minutes by a waiter coming over and asking for our order. I haven’t had a chance to even look at a menu, so I order a plain coffee to be safe. Mom decides to order a cappuccino and banana bread. My eyes are almost bulging from my head as I hear her speak the words. Mom’s never been one to have any kind of sweet treat. Her favorite snack food is tuna on crackers.

  “Banana bread? That’s different for you,” I quip.

  “My tastes have changed recently, Georgia. No more boring for me. My new favorite food is seafood paella. It’s this Spanish dish—”

  “I know what paella is, Mom,” I interrupt. “It’s quite tasty.” I try hard not to sigh at her comment. She always assumes I know nothing.

  “I met Alejandro in Majorca. H
e’s a chef, a very sexy chef. He cooked for me every night I was there.” She’s actually gushing. Her hands are clasped at her chest while she’s looking out the window. I’m sure there’s a glint in her eye.

  This isn’t my mother.

  This is some sort of imposter.

  Mom’s never gushed in her life, not over anything or anyone.

  “How long were you in Spain?” I ask.

  “Just a couple of weeks before I flew to Paris and then London before returning home.”

  “So, you and Alfred did the whole European adventure, then?” I ask, pretending not to know that they had gone away at all. I wouldn’t want Mom’s neighbor at the back getting an earful because she let me know they were away.

  The waiter brings our drinks over and Mom’s snack. I thank him before returning my attention to Mom, hoping she’s going to continue her story. “So?” I ask again, watching her vigorously stirring her cappuccino.

  “Ah, no. We didn’t do the whole trip together. Alfred was taken to the hospital on our first stop, Rome. He had a heart attack, and they had to put a stent in. So, we really didn’t get to see much in Rome, which I was very disappointed about. Plus, it was a complete waste of Alfred’s hard-earned money.”

  I want to roll my eyes at her comment. I can just imagine it now, her husband’s in serious condition in the hospital, and she’d be looking out the window wishing she was on a private tour somewhere.

  “Is he better now?” I ask through gritted teeth. I honestly don’t give a fuck how he is. This is all in the name of being polite.

  “I’m not sure. We had a fight in the hospital. He was told to stay for a few weeks to recover, but we’d booked and paid for our entire trip, and I couldn’t stand to waste the money.”

  “Wow,” is all I can manage to spit out.

  “I came back into his hospital room after getting a bite to eat one night, the door was closed, which was unusual, but I went in any way thinking he may be asleep. He definitely wasn’t, and he had a hand up a woman’s skirt, and the other down her top. She was fondling him. It looked like she was wearing a nurse’s uniform, but I’m not sure. It’s not like the door was lockable, and he knew I was still in the hospital, but he took the opportunity when it presented itself.” Mom pulls a serviette out of the holder and dabs at her eyes, although I’m sure no tears were there or would have fallen.

  “So, did you go off at her and him?” I ask.

  Or did you just believe him again? She started it all like you did with me?

  “I asked what was going on. Alfred denied it. But the whole time, she was still massaging him. She couldn’t speak any English, and apparently asked if I wanted to join them. I decided that enough was enough. I was done with the marriage. I told him so, and I continued the trip without him.”

  Words escape me right now.

  She left him because he was messing around with a stranger. Yet, when I told her what he tried to do to me, she ignored it.

  I finally manage to squeak out, “Sorry to hear.” I don’t know what else to say, and I sure as shit am not sorry.

  “No, you’re not. You never liked Alfred. Perhaps I should have listened to you,” she mumbles before taking a large mouthful of coffee.

  Am I hearing her right?

  Did she just say she should have listened to me?

  Holy shit! Did hell just freeze over?

  I take a sip of my coffee, trying to process what she’s said and what I say from here. If this is Mom’s way of trying to apologize for all that’s happened, then she’s not doing a very good job.

  “I never liked him, Mom. For good reason.”

  “I realize that now. I should have thrown him out a long time ago. The night I saw him watching you in the shower while doing things to himself.”

  A chill runs down my spine with what Mom’s said. She knew for a long time that Alfred was watching me and never said a thing. Never did a thing. It’s creepy and disgusting.

  I turn my nose up at what she says, and she puts her hands up in protest. “Not my finest Mom moment, I’ll admit.”

  Is this woman fucking for real? Not her finest moment? Who turns a blind eye to their husband jerking off while he watches his stepdaughter shower? A fucking sicko, that’s for sure.

  My heart rate is off the charts, I don’t know what to do or say. I wish I weren’t sitting in a crowded coffee shop right now so I could scream at her. I take a very deep breath and another sip of my coffee, before grabbing my handbag and going to stand.

  Mom grabs at my hand. “Please stay. I know this is not what you want to hear, but I want to speak with you. No more talk about Alfred.”

  One part of me says run, the other part is saying don’t dwell on what she says. You can talk it out with Ashleigh tomorrow, but for now, you need to listen to what she wants to tell you. Perhaps this is part of your healing.

  “Georgia, please. I’m talking to a therapist about everything I’ve been through in my life, and he’s helping me deal with issues that stem from my parents.”

  What she’s been through in her life?

  What, like being a spoiled brat since the day she was born?

  “I don’t know what to say. What you’ve told me has disgusted and hurt me deeply. You knew he was a pervert, and you turned a blind eye.” I lower my voice before adding, “If you’d have come home at the normal time the day you kicked me out, Alfred would have raped me. Do you understand how terrifying that is?”

  “I’m glad I came home early that day, then.” There’s no change of tone nor any sort of care in her voice. Coming here today was a mistake because, if anything, I’ve learned additional things that I’ll now have to discuss with Ashleigh.

  “I need to get out of here.”

  As I try and stand again, she grabs my hand, and I sit back down before I fall.

  “I’m broke, Georgia. Alfred’s canceled all my cards and has told me to collect my things and be out of the house before he returns in a week. The old bastard’s not likely to die anytime soon. Neither are my parents. And I’m going to be out on my ass. Can you help me, Georgia? Please? I’m your mother.”

  And there we go!

  There’s the reason for her wanting to talk to me.

  The bitch wants money.

  I guessed it.

  A leopard never changes its spots.

  The anger is building up inside me, and I feel like I’m going to erupt into a fury of bad words and poor choices. I glare at her for several minutes, not really sure on my next move.

  She continues on about how she wants to move to Spain and be with Alejandro, and she just needs airfare and a small amount of money to set up her life there.

  While I’d love to know that my mom’s in another country, thousands of miles away from me, I’d never give her a dime.

  I cut her off mid-sentence as I haven’t really been listening to what she’s been talking about anyway. “I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again.” The words are like venom leaving my mouth. “I wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire. Forget you have a daughter because from now on, I don’t have a mother. You’re dead to me. Go and convince another poor sucker that you’re in love with him, and get your money that way as you’ll never get a dime from me.”

  She sits there stunned for a moment. A couple at a neighboring table has heard what I’ve said, but I don’t care. This woman no longer exists.

  She stands, walks toward the exit, but before she reaches it, she turns back around. “I know you have money. I sacrificed my life for you.” She scowls. “The least you can do is help me in my time of need.”

  “Never,” I growl.

  “You’re just like him. This isn’t the end of things.” She leaves the table and walks out the door, and I feel as though a much larger weight has been lifted from my shoulders. No more worrying about Alfred or my mother coming back into my life. I’m done with them. Her idle threat doesn’t bother me at all. She has nothing on me and can’t get her hands on anythin
g of mine.

  I fetch my old cell out of my bag and begin the difficult task of removing the sim card. Just before I get the compartment open, a hand taps my shoulder, making me jump.

  “I told you to stay the hell—” I start as I spin around, but I stop myself in my tracks. Adam is standing there wearing a baseball cap and casual jacket with a grin plastered on his face.

  “Ohhh,” I mumble before the tears start to fall. I told myself I wasn’t going to get emotional, but Adam’s face is exactly what I need to see right now.

  He passes me a few napkins and hugs me before lifting his index finger at me. He runs to the counter, putting a twenty down to pay for the food, before coming back and collecting me. He helps me stand and wraps his arm firmly around my shoulders.

  Adam doesn’t need to say anything, just the fact that he’s here is enough.

  He’s my family now. Adam and his mom. They’re all I need. We are going to move forward from this, push all the negatives out of mind, and focus on the positives and us.

  Adam’s all I’ll ever need.

  Adam

  We are still recovering from the events of two days ago. After a short visit to Mom, I dropped Georgia at the office to collect her car and reluctantly went to the dinner for my clients. I didn’t want to go, it didn’t feel right to leave, but Georgia said she needed time to think.

  So, I went to the dinner, we ate and talked before I faked a text and told them I had to leave blaming Georgia being terribly ill, and I drove home as fast as I could.

  She woke up yesterday morning as if nothing had happened. I worried all day that she was bottling all of this up, and she’d end up in a mess, but she asked to leave early yesterday as she was going to see her psychologist, Ashleigh, which made me so happy. I’m glad she was able to talk it through with her while it was still fresh in her mind.

  I got home at almost the same time she did, and over dinner—which was another one of Lucy’s amazing dishes—she told me how she now feels free, that she doesn’t have this worry hanging over her head anymore, and that she may even press charges against Alfred for what he did. But Georgia wants to think about that because if she does, she may have to see him again, which is not something she wants.