Grudge Match

by Jessica Gadziala

  "She's going to ask about your intentions, Ross. I'm not exaggerating here. I'm an only child. They take this seriously."

  "So I will tell her my intentions," I said, shrugging.

  What were those, well, I didn't exactly know how to phrase it even to Addy, let alone her mother who likely wouldn't appreciate a liberal smattering of 'fucks' and 'shits,' but I would figure it out.

  I knew what I felt.

  I felt like this was different.

  This was going somewhere.

  You didn't throw away the person who quieted the world, who gave you acceptance, and in doing so, gave you a freedom you had never experienced before.

  You held on like fuck to that.

  And pray they didn't try to get away.

  Hell, maybe that was what I would tell the woman.

  It was the damn truth.

  "Have you ever, ah, done this?" she asked, clearly still uncomfortable.

  "Met someone's mother?" I asked, watching her nod. "Baby, I've never even met the morning from the side of a woman's bed. This is new. But your mother, I'm sure, just wants to make sure I'm not using you and that I can take care of you." I waved a hand around my place, decadent by most standards. "I got you covered."

  "I don't want someone to take care of me," she was quick to clarify. "That was never..."

  "Pretty sure I know you're not a gold digger since you want to shampoo your own fucking car to get my bloodstains out."

  "Oh, yeah, they came and took that about an hour ago. Case you were wondering."

  "Took what?" Addy asked, brows together.

  "Yer car, duchess. The detail place took it to take care of it."

  "I said I would do it!" she whisper-shrieked, turning back to me, eyes accusing.

  I hadn't ever exactly been in the position to give a woman anything. But I was pretty sure being angry over a shampoo to get my blood out of their seats would never be considered ostentatious or inappropriate. Hell, or even at all generous.

  "I'm sure you could too. But that was my blood. I wanted to take care of it."

  "You wouldn't let me take care of it when I got my blood all over your car!"

  She had a point there.

  "Okay. The next time you bloody up my car, feel free to pay the detail fee. Happy?"

  "That's all I'm asking," she agreed, already loosening up, giving me a small smile.

  "As soon as your car is back, it might be smart to head home to head her off, get her settled."

  "Yeah. I apparently need to change the sheets," she said, giving Adler small-eyes.

  "And then we can work out a time for tomorrow. We'll take her to Famiglia."

  "Fancy," Adler agreed, reaching for my burger on my plate, tearing it in half, and proceeding to go right ahead and eat it. Thin as always, I had no idea where he was putting it. "I'll have to find a suit."

  "You're not invited," I clarified.

  "And yet somehow, I don't feel like that is going to stop me."

  It wouldn't either.

  The crazy fuck showed up at Famiglia.

  SIXTEEN

  Adalind

  "I'm not mad," I clarified as I rushed past my mother with my arms full of sheets and pillowcases, dropping them in the basket in my bathroom, then digging new sheets out of my only closet.

  By the time my car got back and I got home, I rushed up to find my mother raising her hand to knock.

  No time for a quick clean, I realized.

  My mother wasn't anal, but she liked a clean house, she believed in the concept of chaos in your environment creating chaos in your mind.

  "Jesus," I hissed as realized not only had Adler slept in my bed and gone through my medicine cabinet, but he had also gone into my dresser drawer. You know, the drawer. Where a girl had to keep a good friend whose only requirement was a double-A battery. He had pulled the pink vibrator out of the velvet bag it came in, and left it right there in a half-opened drawer. I pushed it closed with my hip and flapped out the fitted sheet over the bed, watching as my mother moved to the other side to help like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  In the past, it had been.

  We had made many a bed together in my life.

  "You seem mad, honey," she said, tucking a corner.

  "I'm not mad," I assured her, though maybe there was a teensy tiny bit of that too. Not because I didn't want to see her, but because in doing so, she forced me to have a conversation with Ross that I felt was a bit too soon, no matter how many assurances he had given me. "I'm just a little flustered," I clarified. That was an understatement too.

  Today wasn't supposed to go like this.

  I was supposed to be at Ross' making sure he got his rest and took care of his ribs (and, by extension, his lungs) as well as his hands.

  I would bet every dollar in my bank account that he wasn't doing what I asked him to do right before I left - climbing back into bed to get some extra rest so he could heal.

  "You are a little pale, honey," she said, coming over to my side of the bed, reaching out to place a hand at the back of my neck. "Are you feeling alright? Do you still have problems with the concussion?"

  I had actually forgotten I had one.

  That was how crazy the last day had been.

  Me, the girl who never got hurt badly enough that a Band-Aid wouldn't cure it, forgot she had a concussion, and stitches prone to breaking open.

  "I tore one of my stitches yesterday then didn't get much sleep. I think I'm just a little worn out."

  And nervous as hell.

  I shouldn't have been.

  From the outside, Ross was the stuff of a mother's dreams. He was handsome, mature, successful, well-dressed, and had just the right amount of confidence to pull it all together.

  And because he knew it was important, I knew he would, ah, make his language a bit more PC as the situation would demand.

  But he had a split lip, messed-up knuckles, and he made his money from an illegal fighting club that I was praying my mother did not demand to see at some point.

  "Well, we can just relax tonight," my mother offered, patting my cheek, then moving off to make tea. "Then we will both be fresh for dinner with your man tomorrow at... what was it?"

  "Famiglia," I offered, sitting down on the edge of the bed, realizing that I hadn't just been lying - I really was exhausted.

  My mother turned, giving me a smile much like my own. In fact, she really was a perfect example of what I would look like in another twenty-some-odd years. If you looked at pictures of her at my age, we looked like sisters. She kept her hair shorter and wore a bit more makeup than I ever bothered with, but we had the same eyes, nose, lips, face shape. Hell, she even somehow managed to keep a very similar figure to mine even after a baby and menopause.

  Seeing that smile, the way it made the skin next to her eyes crinkle up a little, made me feel guilty for being so negative about her visit.

  It had been far too long since I had seen her. I missed seeing her face, since while she had mastered texting, she could not - and did not want - to figure out video calling.

  I was just caught off-guard.

  And had been terrified that her, ah, forwardness would scare him off.

  Yes, terrified.

  That was how much he had begun to mean to me already.

  I didn't want to lose him.

  "It sounds fancy," she mused, flattening her hands over her stomach. "I don't think I packed anything that would work. Do you think you have something that will fit me?"

  I smiled at that, nodding. "You're gonna love it, mom. Ross is going to order this wine that will make you want to cry."

  "You really like him, don't you?" she asked, head dipped to the side slightly, watching me with keen eyes. "I had suspicions, but you talk about him rather, well, carefully. I wanted to see. But you look like you're bursting."

  That was a good way to put it.

  When we were alone, when his hands were on me, when his eyes were moving over me, it genuine
ly did feel like there was too much inside to contain.

  And we had gotten such precious little time blissfully alone. I could only imagine how it would feel with more of it to fill me up.

  "Yeah," I admitted. "I really like him."

  "So what you're saying is, I should not make the comment about your father's fictional gun."

  I laughed at that, moving across the room, wrapping my arms around her. "I would really appreciate that."

  She was dressed in one of my more modest deep blue dresses with cap sleeves and a bodice that buttoned up almost to the neck, but did show off a little leg.

  I put on my only green dress, dark, setting off my eyes, longer of hem, but a little more low-cut in the front.

  "Oh wow," she said as we pulled up to the building on the water. "This is fancy fancy." Her voice was equally impressed and excited, managing to wipe away my own trepidation as we moved toward the stairs, each of us maybe holding on for dear life in case we ruined the night by falling down the seawater-slick wood.

  "Oh, my," she whispered at me, squeezing my hand hard, sucking in her breath.

  Not at the beautiful decor of Famiglia though.

  No.

  At Ross standing there in all his expensive black-suit-wearing glory. His face was left scruffy, something that distracted you from the bruise I knew was on his cheek. His lip was still split, but scabbed over.

  His knuckles didn't look good.

  I hoped he cleaned them properly without me there to remind him. Even if he did think I was being a worrywart.

  But I doubted my mother even noticed things like his hands. Not when the rest of him was so impressive.

  I almost didn't notice for a second, totally eye-fucking the hell out of my man, maybe still a little floored that a man like him saw and wanted me, that I didn't notice he wasn't standing there alone.

  Oh, no.

  Right there at his side, looking wholly self-satisfied and mildly wicked, was Adler.

  He cleaned up well too, I realized, maybe wondering if he just did so himself, or if Ross had a hand in it. His deep charcoal suit was perfectly tailored. His flat black shirt beneath contrasted wonderfully, and his shoes were shined. If I wasn't mistaken, his watch looked every bit as expensive as the one Ross was wearing.

  "Mom, this is Ross Ward," I explained, moving toward him when he extended an arm, inviting me to his side even as he extended his hand to her. "Ross, this is my mom, Cindy."

  "It's nice to meet you," Ross said, oozing charm, giving her a smile that I swear made the woman melt. "I've heard a lot about you." That wasn't a lie either; I had talked about my mom a lot. "And Cindy, this is Adler," Ross went on, giving me a squeeze like he knew I was on bated breath about the whole thing. "He is..."

  "The closest thing he has to a brother," Adler supplied, giving her a smile that rivaled Ross'. "It is a pleasure to meet ya," he told her, just overflowing with that charisma of his that I knew could be used for good or evil. Luckily, I was sure he was under the threat of castration by fire ants if he tried anything tonight. So I didn't worry at all when he offered her his arm to escort her to our table.

  As we walked, Ross leaned down, kissing my temple. "It's gonna be fine," he told me, pulling me to sit with him in the booth. In fact, I was as close as I could get without being on top of him. His arm went and stayed around my hip, keeping me against him when I might have normally pulled away for the sole reason that my mother was present.

  "Thank you for agreeing to meet me. I know this was very last minute, and that you are a busy man."

  "Aye, Ward here is happy to take time out anytime ya decide to drop in, ain't ya, Ward?" Adler asked, making me have to press my lips together to keep from laughing. So he was going to be on his best behavior, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try to make Ross' life harder.

  "I'm never too busy to make time for Addy's family," Ross agreed, thumb starting to lazily stroke my belly as he held onto me.

  "Addy!" my mother squealed, delighted by the nickname, even though she had made sure all my life that no one cut down my name. "My Bob and I don't get down here as much as we would like, but we would love for you to come up for holidays if you're free."

  "Ya know, Cindy, we are all very free," Adler declared. "Can ya believe that neither of us have celebrated Thanksgiving in, well, ever. Right, Ward? Never?"

  "What?" my mother asked, eyes huge, worried, full-on mom-mode.

  "Ya, see, we were in, well... foster care together. Our guardian didn't exactly care 'bout things like holidays. Then, as adults, there was never any table to gather around, I guess."

  I swear to God, she had to pick up her napkin and dab her eyes.

  I realized right then that there were some things about Ross and Adler that I could never tell my mother, even if Ross would be comfortable with it. She was too soft, too gentle. She wouldn't be able to live her life knowing how much evil there was in the world.

  Better for her to just believe the foster system was, unfortunately, somewhat flawed, and open her table up to two men who had never had a proper Thanksgiving before.

  By the time the wine was delivered, Adler was heavy into a conversation about, of all things, the proper way to make potatoes au gratin with my mother who had a lot of opinions on the matter.

  "Ya mean there are four different kinds of cheese in it?" he asked, looking like he was salivating over the very idea.

  "You have a healthy appetite, I see," my mother observed, taking the glass that Ross handed her.

  "Ain't never had a single home-cooked meal, Cindy," he admitted surprising me as well as Ross. As far as I could tell, Adler wasn't big on sharing personal tidbits. "I like hearing the details."

  Ugh.

  He might have been a bit of a pain in the ass at times, but my heart ached for him. What kind of life must he have led to have never had a home cooked meal?

  Maybe my family would be good for him.

  And, quite frankly, I was more than willing to share for as long as Ross was in my life. Which was hopefully a good, long time.

  "Addy, let's powder our noses," my mom suggested between dinner and dessert, making me look at Ross who knew I didn't powder my nose ever, so he gave me a lip-twitch, knowing we were going to talk about him. He slid out of the booth, giving me another squeeze before letting me take off with my mother.

  "That was not subtle at all," I declared, moving in front of the enormous mirror in front of the slate sink vanity, fluffing up my hair a bit.

  "Honey, those poor men!" she declared, voice full of feeling. I swore when she moved in beside me and I saw her reflected, her heart was in her eyes. "They are both so in need of the love of a woman. Ross is so lucky to have found you."

  "I think I'm the lucky one," I admitted. By all accounts, I was almost painfully average. I had a normal upbringing, relationships, jobs, interests. I hadn't traveled. I hadn't read all the classics or studied all the masterpieces. I simply... wasn't that impressive. Ross, on the other hand, had led a life of insane ups and downs. He had done and seen things I would never experience. He was successful and deep and stunningly gorgeous.

  "Does he do a lot of home improvement?"

  I didn't have an answer to that, but I doubted it, even if the idea of him sweaty with a hammer was enough to send my libido into overdrive.

  "I'm not sure, why?"

  "His hands are a little rough. Like your daddy when he tries to play handyman."

  My father - bless him - really tried, but failed spectacularly when he tried to fix things around the house. It usually ended with a trip to an emergency room, and a Tetanus booster.

  "Oh, no," I said, shaking my head. "He boxes," I supplied. Only cringing internally at the half-lie.

  "Mmm," she said dreamily. "I bet that keeps him in good shape. He seems well-built."

  "He is," I affirmed. "Even with gnarly knuckles and a busted lip. What?" I asked when her eyes danced.

  "I thought maybe you had gotten overly enthusiastic and b
it his lip."

  "Mom!" I squeaked, eyes going huge.

  "What?" she asked, smiling huge. "We're all adults here. And, well, who would blame you if you did get overly enthusiastic with a man as good-looking as that one?"

  "He really is yummy, huh?" I asked, smiling a bit proudly.

  "And his friend, he is such a charming young man. I hope he finds himself a good woman too."

  "He just recently moved back to town. He traveled a lot for work. Hopefully, if he puts down some roots, he can find someone."

  Someone who could put up with his crazy self.

  I was sure she was out there somewhere.

  "Do you really think they would come up for Thanksgiving?" she asked, clearly hopeful.

  "I think that Ross is a man of his word." And he would make sure Adler stuck to his as well.

  "And you're happy?" she asked, sounding like her own happiness depended on it.

  "Very," I agreed, feeling the smile pull at my lips.

  "I can't wait to make those boys some au gratin!" she declared, fluffing her hair, then moving toward the door. "Come on, we have dessert waiting!"

  When I slid back in the booth, I gave Ross' thigh a squeeze under the table and a smile that he seemed to be able to interpret.

  He had her approval.

  I don't think I realized until I saw the relief on his face how much he needed her approval, how much it mattered to him. It was all so new to him, the relationship thing, the family thing, the needing to worry about something other than his own wants and needs and opinions.

  "She loves you," I told him under my breath as I reached across him for the cream and sugar when the coffee arrived.

  "Adalind," my mother called as we moved outside after the meal.

  "Yeah?"

  "I was thinking... maybe it would be best if I get a room at the hotel tonight. What?" she asked when me, Ross, and Adler all shared a look and a chuckle.

  "Ross actually has a penthouse residence at the hotel in town."

  "Really! Wow, that is fascinating. And that works out perfectly, doesn't it? Maybe I could come up for breakfast before I hit the road again."

  "Mom, you just got..."