by T. L Smith
“Yes. She’s on her way. I pay her generously and have had her for years. She’s good. I trust her implicitly.”
“I don’t need a cleaner.”
“Your shower says otherwise.” I smirk.
She blushes.
“That’s your fault. I told you the shower wasn’t going to be big enough.”
“I’ll buy you new soap, washes, and whatever else I might have broken.” I may have accidentally knocked them over and spilled them all over her floor. Her bathroom is incredibly small. It’s like a closet in comparison to mine.
And I had plans to fuck her, so nothing else mattered at the time. Therefore the mess I left behind was probably more than it should have been. Still, my cleaner will make it sparkle before we return.
“It makes me uncomfortable when you throw around your offers.”
I pause and turn to her. “What offers?”
Her perfect brows pinch together. “Things that cost money. I know you’re used to it, but I’m not. Please stop offering things, especially stuff that costs money I don’t have,” she says, as the front door opens.
My mother is standing there. Her gaze falls to Jacinta. She assesses her, then moves back to me. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone, Beckham. You know better than that.”
Ha.
She thinks she can play me like she does the girls. Well, she should know better than that. I stopped being manipulated by her a long time ago.
“Nonsense. I don’t need to inform you. We both know you have more than enough food. Now, let me introduce you to Jacinta. No rude comments or talking down to her. I am not Rylee. I will straight up leave and not come back.”
My mother forces a smile. “I’m not rude,” she snaps, then looks at Jacinta. “Your son? He’s not here?”
“No, he’s with his grandfather today.”
“Wonderful. The girls are inside already.” My mother steps back to let us enter, and I kiss her on the forehead as I show Jacinta to the living room. Rylee smiles and offers her a drink straight away as Rhianna smirks, simply watching me.
“I’ll be back,” I lean down and tell Jacinta.
She nods and takes the seat next to Rylee as I walk out. I find my mother opening a bottle of wine as I enter the kitchen. “I love her.”
My mother’s brows rise at my confession. “Do you, though?” she questions.
“I do. I see her differently than I have ever seen a woman in my life. I think about her all the time. She is my first thought each morning and my last every night.”
“It could be infatuat—” my mother attempts to say before I cut her off.
“It’s not.”
“She’s below you, you know that. Surely, you know that?” She lifts her glass of wine and takes a few sips. “A kid. No house. Been married. Gosh, what else is there?”
“Is that all you see?”
She scoffs and shakes her head. “No. Do you really want to know what I see?”
“Enlighten me, Mother,” I egg her on, crossing my arms over my body, taking that please educate me with your damn thoughts stance.
“You won’t leave?” she asks. “I mean … you did ask.”
“No, now tell me.”
“Fine then.” She takes a deep breath. “I see a woman who’s not good enough for my son. My son who has a lot at stake and something for her to win. You may have been smart with women in the past, but you aren’t with this one. What? So you’re going to marry her, and then when she leaves, she takes everything you have worked so hard for with her, and she runs away with the next man in line who can give her more than you can.” She takes a deep breath, and I grind my teeth at her words. “I know girls like her. Lost, looking for love, and shown money. Now that’s all she wants. It’s why she went after Anderson … money. How much is she getting from that family? Considering how well off they are, I’m sure she would be getting enough to not work a day in her life. Have you seen under her bed? Do you really know all her secrets? It’s quite evident you don’t. All I’m saying is watch her, get to know her first. Gold-diggers are good at hiding where they stash their cash.”
My mother’s eyes fall on something behind me, and I turn.
Jacinta’s standing there, her eyes glassy as she looks at me.
“I think we should leave.”
My mother offers her a small wave as Jacinta turns and walks away.
“You said you wouldn’t leave,” my mother reminds me.
“That was before you turned into an A-class bitch.”
“Beckham,” my mother calls out after me, but I don’t even pause, walking straight out the front door. Jacinta is heading down the driveway.
“Jacinta.”
She doesn’t stop. Her feet keep up the rapid pace she’s set, and I have to jog to catch up with her. When I finally reach her, I grab her shoulder, but Jacinta shrugs me off and keeps going.
“Will you stop?”
She finally does, in her tracks, and whips around to face me. Tears are falling down her face. “I’ve put up with a lot in my life, Beckham. A lot. But I am not going to put up with someone who cannot defend me, who sits there and listens to those awful comments your mother threw my way. I get it. I do. She’s your mother. But if my mother, rest her soul, said anything like that about you, I would have corrected her the minute the words spewed from her mouth. But no, you encouraged her. I heard it all, and you never once defended me. I want to go home, and I would very much like you to not follow. I’ll see you Monday. Please don’t stop by again.”
“Let me drive you home.”
“I’ve called a cab. I can pay for that myself, so you don’t have to worry about my gold-digging ways. Thank you very much.” Jacinta turns and proceeds down the driveway, and my feet stay stuck in the gravel as I watch her leave.
“Beckham.” It’s Rhianna, and she’s looking at the end of the driveway as I watch Jacinta get into a cab, and it pulls out into traffic. I’ve been standing here waiting and watching. “You should know better than anyone to protect people you love around our mother.”
I turn to face her, and she smiles sadly.
“You’ve watched us go through it, and now you’re the golden child.”
“She left,” is all I say.
Rhianna’s forehead scrunches as she comes closer then touches my shoulder. “Give her time if that’s what she wants. But not too long … if you want her, that is.” She squeezes, releases me, then turns, and walks back inside the house where I was brought up.
Allowing myself to breathe for a few moments, I eventually turn and step inside. My mother is standing at the door, waiting for me.
“That was so wrong,” I tell her. “And worse than that, I let you say it. I didn’t defend Jacinta at all.”
“Because you know what I said is true.”
“No, it’s not. If you took the time to get to know her, you would know that.” I close, then open my eyes, trying to get rid of the vision of Jacinta’s hurt face, then I spin around and walk to my car. Over my shoulder, I say, “You fuck up all your relationships. How our father has managed to stay with you, I will never know.”
She gasps. “Beckham.”
“You better think of a way to make that shit up to Jacinta. Fuck! Even try to get to know her because I plan to keep her around for a long time.”
“What about Paige?”
“Mother.”
Both the twins are standing there now, their eyes on our mother as she says the name of the woman I once loved who died.
“What about Paige?” I ask.
“You can’t replace her. That woman … that woman is nothing like her.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want another Paige. I had Paige, I loved Paige, and I have mourned her.”
And it’s true, I did love her, I have mourned for her, but she is no longer here, and I can finally see that. Paige is never coming back.
“It’s not Paige who holds my heart, Mother. I don’t even know if adult Paige and
adult me would have worked. We worked when we were younger because we loved each other. But the me I am now only has eyes for one woman. Do you understand?”
“It’s a mistake.”
“It’s not. You won’t be seeing me again until you fix this.”
“I’ll come to your work. You won’t be able to avoid me, Beckham. I am your mother.”
I smile at her threat. “And Jacinta will tell you I’m not available.” I get into the car, not bothering to argue with her anymore. She’s caused enough trouble for one day.
“Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Archie says, sliding out from underneath his Shelby Cobra, which he refuses to drive or sell. I know for a fact it’s worth upwards of one million, but he says progress takes time. Well, this one has taken a shit load of time. “You blow it already with the girl?” He chuckles, wiping his hands on his dirty jeans.
I take a seat in the chair near him and open his fridge, which is always fully stocked, and pull out a beer for myself and throw him another.
“Mother. I took Jacinta to see her.”
Archie laughs and shakes his head. “Why on earth would you think it would be a good idea to take Jacinta around your mother? You know who she is. What she is. Shit! It’s been what for Rylee? She had August’s baby, and your mom still didn’t want August or the baby.”
He has a point. There’s no doubt about that.
He rubs his jaw. “Unless you went in knowing she’d be like that and did it on purpose. Could you be sabotaging on purpose?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“The pain … that I put there.” I shake my head. “Time. I have to give her time,” I say.
“No woman wants time. If you really want her, you would already be there, not here.” He rolls back under the car and I leave.
Chapter 27
Jacinta
Beckham’s cleaner was here when I arrived home. I attempted to ask her nicely to leave, but she nodded her head as if she didn’t understand me.
Once she finishes though, she speaks perfect English and tells me she’ll see me next week. All I can do is nod from where I lie curled in a ball on my bed as I listen to her pack up and leave.
How could he stand there and let his mother trash-talk about me like that?
Just after he told me he loves me.
This relationship is not healthy.
Not good.
I’d call it fragile.
I had an example of a great relationship growing up. So, how I have managed to pick these bad eggs, I will never know.
Anderson being the worst one of them all.
But I never felt this pain in my chest the same as I do with Beckham.
This longing, this kind of heartache. The emotional tightness, the shortness of breath, and the anxiety when I think about him have me feeling almost lightheaded.
My phone pings and I want to ignore it. But Oliver isn’t with me, so when I check it and see that it’s not Beckham, I’m hit with relief but then overwhelming sadness.
It’s Leo letting me know he won’t be back for a while, but he sends a picture of Oliver through. I thank him and rise from the bed. I need to do at least one thing on my list before my already ruined day becomes any worse.
As I arrive at the shops, my phone starts ringing. I see Beckham’s name flicker on the screen when I look down.
Nope.
Not answering.
Not a chance in hell.
Going in, I reach the chocolate aisle and grab more than I usually would.
Budget, I think.
Fuck my budget.
Chocolate is going to be the answer, along with sad movies tonight.
My phone rings again, so I silence it and move on.
“Do you plan to ignore me for the rest of the day?” I jump, my hand falling to my heart and the milk splattering all over my feet when it somehow slips through my fingers.
Shit.
Damn it all to hell!
I look up into his dark eyes, and his hand grabs my cart as it almost runs away.
“I asked for space,” I tell Beckham as someone comes over with a mop.
I apologize. Beckham does not.
“And I gave it to you.” He looks down at his watch. “Four long hours.”
“You should leave.” I pull away and try to maneuver around him, but he blocks my path.
“Okay, we need to talk,” he says.
I place my hands on my hips. “Talk, then move it. I have things to do.”
His hand reaches up and scratches at his brow as his full attention focuses on me.
I used to feel scrutinized under someone’s gaze but now, not so much.
“I shouldn’t have let my mother speak about you in that way.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Why would you even bring me to that place if all you wanted to do was hear the bad words your mother has to say about me?” I half yell. People walk by and stare, neither of us caring. All that exists is us in our own small bubble right now.
I used to like that bubble when his hands would roam my body, and his dark stare would penetrate me.
“And for the record, Leo sends me checks. Big ones to help support Oliver. Basically, what he would have given his son. But I don’t cash them. Hell, I don’t even open the envelopes. I didn’t ask him to do that. He just does. I don’t want your money, Beckham. As far as I am concerned, you can take your cash and stick it up your mother’s ass.” I push past him, taking my shopping with me. He lets me, and I get to the checker before he’s behind me again.
“I’m not sure what else to say to you. I told you this morning that I have fallen in love with you. Then this afternoon is ending like this.”
“I would defend you, Beckham! If someone loves you, they defend you.”
He scratches his face. “I’m learning, Jacinta. It’s been a long time since I cared for someone other than myself.”
I nod and push forward while the checker who’s scanning my items watches us. I smile, and she looks down, blushing. Clearly, she’s heard everything we just talked about.
I pay and walk out, but he follows.
“It won’t happen again,” he says from behind me.
And I kind of believe him.
When I turn to face him, I have to remember to breathe. “I need to get home,” I say in defeat.
“I want to come,” he states, but I don’t answer him. Instead, I get in my car and drive home. When I get there, Beckham pulls in behind me. He walks over, reaches for my bags of food, and follows me inside, placing them on the counter. “Forgive me,” he pleads.
“They hurt, just so you know. Those words hurt me.”
“I’m sorry.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. “I’m sorry,” he says again, both hands coming up to my face, cupping me so he can see me. “I’m sorry,” he says once more, this time leaning down and kissing me. Soft, tender, and dare I say it …
… with love.
“I’ve loved someone before,” he says between kisses. “But never this way. Not like this. Not where I can’t function.” When I catch my breath at his words, I simply nod. “You are ingrained in me now. I’m very selective, Jacinta, and I choose you. Do you understand, I choose you?”
“You love me,” I say.
He smirks, those gorgeous lips lifting before he nods. “Fucking truth, I do.”
“And you are sorry?”
“Yes. I will not be speaking to my mother again. We will not see her until she apologizes.”
I grip his hands around my face. “Don’t do that. She’s your mother. You only get one. Trust me, I know this.”
“Tell me about them … your parents,” Beckham says, lifting and placing me on the counter, wedging his body between my legs as he waits for me to answer. “Tell me everything about them. So I can understand you.”
“They were each other’s first loves. Only loves …” I pause. I remember how my father used to make my mother angry, but mome
nts later, he would play music and dance in front of her until she smiled. He was an awful dancer. And she loved to dance. “I look like her,” I tell him.
“Well then, she must have been one fucking looker.” I smile as he pulls me closer and kisses my mouth. It’s not a soft kiss this time. It’s a hard kiss. An, I’m sorry kiss. And I take it because I love him too.
Even if his mother is an ass.
Lips so tender push against mine, hands so rough search my body, for what, I’m not sure. Breaths so rapid have trouble catching mine.
“Ignore it,” Beckham says, his hand sliding up my skirt until he reaches my panties.
I smile as the knock comes again and then huff. He pulls away, putting distance between us, so I can jump off the counter. I wipe my mouth, which is covered in us.
“It’s Oliver,” I tell him, heading toward the door. Upon opening it, Oliver barrels into my legs, and Leo stands there smiling, holding onto his bag.
“He’s been excited since dinner to come to see Beckham,” Leo says, looking behind me at where Beckham is now standing.
“Well, we shall not disappoint.” Beckham follows Oliver to his room to show him all the things he got today, and I turn back around to Leo.
“Anderson doesn’t want to know Oliver. It was all his mother’s doing,” Leo says.
“She’s left. She is no longer in the country. She met a man. It was quick and now she’s moving to Paris.” Relief washes over me. “She just informed me, and I wanted you to know.” I nod, smiling.
Glancing over Leo’s shoulder, I see Glenn getting out of Leo’s car.
“Did Glenn go with you?” I ask, confused.
“No, I picked him up on the way. He’s lonely, and well …” He looks back at him, and Glenn offers me a small wave before he meets us on the porch.
“Nice to see you, Jacinta. I hear my boy is here.” As he says the words, Beckham appears. His hand slides to my waist while his brows pinch in confusion.
“Are you two …” I ask, not sure how to finish the sentence.
“I think we are,” Leo says, smiling back at him. “Glenn isn’t around when I have Oliver, but I was hoping, given time, he could get to know him as well.”
