Say Forever

by Tara West

  I exhale a pent up breath of relief when my gaze sweeps the parking lot and I don't see Nora's or The Cobra's cars. Although, since they trade up their cars about as often as they change their hair color, that doesn't necessarily mean neither of them are here.

  Mrs. James and Tyler are already waiting for us inside.

  Tyler is munching on a fry when I introduce my mom to Mrs. James. My heart warms when Ty points a French fry at me and squeals, "Teeny!"

  I kiss him on the forehead and pretend to eat the smashed up potato he offers me. I'm having a sense of déjà vu right now. It was just last month I was sitting at almost the exact same table with Jackson and playing the fry game with Ty. I steal a quick glance over my shoulder. I'd ended up having a confrontation with my adoptive mother. I sure hope I don't see her today. Jackson had told me his father would try to get The Cobra kicked out of the club, and I cross my fingers it worked.

  "Thanks so much for meeting us last minute." Mrs. James beams at us as we sit down. Her long pale hair fans her face like a halo and her skin looks as radiant as ever. I've always been somewhat envious of her beauty. She makes it look so effortless, but I guess being married to a billionaire has is perks, like access to the best beauty products.

  I woke up this morning with a monster zit on my nose, which I did my best to cover up with three different layers of concealer. Even though Blister Mountain now looks more like Blemish Molehill, I'm still feeling self-conscious about my complexion. I lay my napkin across my lap, trying to pretend my witchy wart doesn't exist and seriously resisting the urge to scratch it to oblivion. "Thank you for inviting me. I've missed Ty."

  "Teeny!" Ty squeals again as he pelts me with a fry.

  "No, no, Tyler," Mrs. James gently scolds him.

  He flashes an adorable wicked grin and throws a fry at her.

  "I can't believe he remembers me," I say.

  "He was asking about you this morning. That's when I decided to call you." Mrs. James daintily picks the fry from behind her ear and wipes it on a napkin. Her soft curtain of hair, which is apparently impervious to projectile potatoes, falls back into place, taunting me with its smooth perfection.

  I mentally kick myself in the ass for my petty jealousy. I could have nice hair, too, if I spent a small fortune at the salon each week. I narrowly miss another fry as it goes hurling across the table. My mom dodges it without even blinking and continues to peruse her menu. I guess she's been through this with Manny and Gio. I sure hope my baby doesn't act like this, but if he or she takes after my brothers or Andrés, I know I'll have my hands full. Ty tosses another fry before Mrs. James takes them away. He will make a nice quarterback one day, as long as he doesn't inherit his dad's derision to any activity that results in a mild sweat. I'm glad to see the color has returned to his cheeks. Last time I saw him, he didn't look well.

  "How's he feeling?" I ask Mrs. James.

  She shrugs while trying to pry the last remaining fry out of his little fist. "He had a chest cold, but he's over it."

  I take a sip from my water glass, trying my best to pretend I'm not horrified as he lets out a wail and starts kicking his legs. He quiets down when Mrs. James gives him back the fries. I like Mrs. James, and I don't want to judge her, but rewarding Tyler for bad behavior isn't going to teach him a lesson. I steal a glance at my mom to gauge her reaction, but she's still engrossed in the menu choices. I'm assuming they have shrimp puffs here, because I think I see a bit of drool hanging off her bottom lip.

  "That's good to hear," I say. "I was worried about him last week." And now I'm worried for another reason, I want to add. I'm afraid he'll turn out to be just as spoiled and selfish as Jackson if you don't discipline him.

  After my mom sets down her menu and asks me to order her the shrimp cakes (probably the closest thing to shrimp puffs she could find), she excuses herself to go to the bathroom. Mrs. James watches her leave and then leans forward as if she's about to relay something top secret.

  "You've always been so thoughtful." Her doe eyes light up as she nods toward my midsection. "You're going to make a great mother."

  I gasp. "You know?"

  "The whore told Jackson last night and he told us."

  I assume by "whore" Mrs. James is referring to Karri. Though I'm not Karri's biggest fan, I'm not sure how I feel about Mrs. James talking about Ty's mother that way. I don't want Ty to grow up thinking that about his mother, even if it is true, but I guess it's not my place to reprimand Mrs. James for expressing her opinion.

  "She didn't waste any time gossiping." I chew on my lower lip while I try to recall what I said to Karri during the fitting from hell. I don't remember telling her I was pregnant. Then I realize either Grace or Violet must have told her.

  Her mouth tilts in a sideways smile. "I think she told him more out of spite. He still pines for you, you know?" she says with a wink.

  I fan my face. My skin is so hot, I feel like I'm sitting under a heat lamp. I was so hoping we could enjoy the dinner without mentioning my ex-fiancé .

  "I'm sorry." She pats my hand. "I'm making you uncomfortable."

  "It's okay." I shrug, pretending it's no biggie I almost followed through with the worst mistake of my life by marrying that selfish, cheating bastard.

  "Don't think I'm trying to push you two back together. I remember your Latin hottie. Can't say I blame you there." She rolls her eyes. "Especially if Jackson inherited his father's anatomy."

  I pause with my glass at my lips and nearly spray my lemon water all over the table. I finally manage to swallow before I'm forced to cough out water lodged in my windpipe.

  "It's just as I suspected." Mrs. James gives me that knowing look, as if I've been inducted into the teeny weenie penis committee.

  I'm thinking she's going to follow up with a secret handshake. Maybe one that involves just our pinkie fingers. But as I listen to her baleful sigh, I realize beneath Mrs. James's beautiful façade is a very unhappy woman. I'm not feeling so jealous anymore.

  "Mrs. James is everything okay?"

  "Everything is wonderful," she says with forced exuberance. "My husband is married to his career, but at least I have that baby I've been wanting, and money," she adds dryly. "Lots and lots of money."

  I have nothing else to say, so I gape at her like an idiot. I don't think this moment can get any more awkward, and I'm suddenly wishing I was somewhere else, like at my favorite coffee shop eating The World's Best Brownie.

  I jump when I'm pelted in the side of the head with a French fry. I look at Ty, who's grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

  "Ty really clings to you," Mrs. James continues before taking a sip of what I initially thought was tea, but now suspect may be something stronger. "That's why my husband hates you, you know?" She waves a disinterested hand in my direction, as if it's no big deal. "Jackson said you two were going to get married and take away the baby. My husband was furious. He loves Tyler as if he's his own son, even though he never gets to spend time with him."

  "Uh, huh." I absently nod while peeling potato off my face. What the hell had Jackson been smoking that he would ever think I'd go back to him?

  "But don't worry," Mrs. James says, her voice dripping with a tad too much sugary sweetness. "Mr. James doesn't hate you anymore. Not since Jackson and that whore agreed to the adoption."

  "Adoption?" My mouth falls open. I know Karri's been a lousy mother, but would she really give up Ty for good?

  Memories from the first day my real mom and I finally met replay through my mind. All of the tears we shed. All the regrets she shared. Even though I've forgiven her, she still wears her shame like an albatross around her neck.

  Not a single day goes by when I don't regret giving you up, she'd cried.

  No matter what I say, my mom won't forgive herself. As much as I don't like Karri, I don't want to see her have the same regrets, and I've got this gut feeling if Karri leaves Ty with the James family and walks away, it will be the biggest mistake of her life.

 
"So what does Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome do for a living?" Mrs. James licks her lips while stroking her straw with the tips of her fingers.

  Ew.

  My spine stiffens, and I feel as if I'm looking at Mrs. James through new eyes.

  I'm uncomfortable talking about my fiancé, especially considering her cougar smile. "He's inheriting his uncle's auto repair shops," I say mechanically as I choose to focus on Ty splattering ketchup with his fist.

  "Nice," she drawls. "Are they profitable?"

  I silently nod.

  "Then he works long hours?"

  I cast my gaze in her direction. One pale brow is arched as she continues to seductively stroke her straw.

  "Yes," I say as an uneasy feeling makes its way down to my stomach.

  "Get used to spending many nights alone. A few glasses of wine dulls the senses and makes it more bearable." As if to emphasize her point, she winks before taking a long sip from her "tea" glass. "So does a buff bodyguard."

  I gape at her for a long moment. "Excuse me?"

  But Mrs. James is too busy noticing something behind me to answer my question. "Oh, look who it is. Nora Richards and Vivian Duval."

  And just like that, the uneasy feeling in my gut twists and turns until my stomach is one solid knot. The blood pumping through my veins solidifies like quicksand, making it impossible for me to turn around. I clench the linen tablecloth, bunching it in my fists as I stare out the restaurant's picturesque bay window. Golfers drive by on their carts, making me green with envy. I think how much being outside sounds more appealing than spending the afternoon inside this upscale prison with The Cobra.

  "They're here just about every night," Mrs. James says. "We call them our resident drunks."

  They just don't hide it as well as you, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut as I turn my head in the other direction, scanning the room. There's a crowd of golfers blocking the nearest exit. Crap.

  "Christina, are you okay?" Mrs. James leans forward and clasps my hand. "You're as pale as a ghost."

  "I don't want to be here with her," I say through clenched teeth as I slowly unhook my fingers from the tablecloth. I've torn a hole in the fabric.

  "Looks like they're leaving, anyway," Mrs. James says.

  I take a chance and slowly turn. Nora's got her arm around my mom's shoulders, and they fall all over each other as they stumble out of the bar toward the large fountain at the center of the arched entry. I suppose that story about Nora no longer being The Cobra's BFF was just another line of bullshit. I exhale a sigh of relief when I see they are leaving the club. But my relief is short-lived when I hear an enraged shriek that sounds part predatory hawk and part tribal war cry. I feel like I'm watching a nightmare play out in slow motion as my mom descends upon them, and before I can stop her, my birth mother is shoving Nora and my adoptive mother into the fountain's basin.

  I jump from my seat and race toward the entry, pushing through the throng of onlookers who crowd the scene.

  My whole world implodes on itself as I get a good look at my mom. She's hovering over the fountain, hands clenched at her sides, while The Cobra and Nora flail in the water like drowning puppies.Mom points a shaky finger at Nora. "That's for trying to ruin my daughter's wedding!"

  Nora stands up and swipes a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. "It was nothing personal, Jenny. My husband-"

  "I don't give a damn about your personal life. I only care about my daughter!"

  My heart slams when I see the rage in my mom's thunderous expression. She looks ready to spit fire.

  "And that's for ruining my daughter's life!" she says to The Cobra who answers with a harrumph as she struggles to get out of the water.

  Nora doesn't bother to offer her friend a hand up. I get the feeling their friendship isn't very solid. I still can't believe my mother, with her tiny five-foot-three frame, soft smile and easy-going nature, managed to knock both her adversaries into the water.

  Though I'm terrified what will happen to my mom after publically assaulting these snakes in the grass, some part of me wants to pump my fist in the air and say, "Kick their asses!"

  Instead, I decide on the sensible course of action—pull Mom away before security apprehends her, and then run like hell.

  "Mom!" I raise my voice to get her attention. Imagine how awkward I feel when both my birth mother and adoptive mother turn to me. I purposely look away from The Cobra, after catching the venomous look in her eyes. I think I hear hissing coming from the water, and I imagine she's trying to turn us to stone right now.

  The crowd is silent. Funny how nobody offers to help Nora and The Cobra out of the fountain.

  My mom pulls back her shoulders, turns up her chin and walks up to me. Despite her show of courage, I note the haunted look in her eyes. It's enough to break my heart. I open my arms, and she buries her face against my neck, sniffling against my ear.

  "I'm sorry, baby."

  My throat tightens with emotion. "Don't be. I love you, Mom."

  "And I love you," she says as she pulls back and flashes a radiant smile despite the sheen of tears in her eyes.

  "You assaulted me!" An ear-piercing shriek resonates behind me. "I'm filing a police report, and you'll be hearing from my lawyer!"

  I look over my mom's shoulder at The Cobra still standing in the center of the fountain. Her bony knees are shaking, and her short skirt clings to her wrinkled thighs. Her giant cone of hair plasters her head in saggy strands, exposing bald patches on her scalp, and her heavy makeup runs down her face in globs.

  I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with my mom and entwine her fingers with mine, distressed to feel how badly her hand shakes. I narrow my gaze at the monster who raised me. "You sue my mom and I'll press charges against you."

  She places both hands on her hips. "For what?" she slurs as water spews from her lips. "I was the one pushed into the water."

  I take a deep breath and then slowly exhale as I try not to make eye contact with anyone, despite the multitudes of curious stares. "For being an accessory to child rape."

  The Cobra gasps and stumbles backward. Nora, who's standing beside her, doesn't even try to break her fall as my adoptive mother hits her head on a spitting cherub.

  My mom cries as her hand flies to her throat. "You don't have to do this, Christina," I hear her rasp.

  The Cobra is groaning and rubbing her head. Nora finally lends a hand and helps her out of the fountain. I know I need to strike again, when my opponent is still down. The only problem is my sordid past will be known to everyone. But my adoptive mother needs to be held accountable for what she has done.

  I turn up my chin and steel my resolve. "You knew my dad was raping me and you didn't even call the cops."

  The Cobra looks like a wet rat, dripping all over the tile floor. The veins in her skinny neck stand out as her fingers curl like claws by her sides. "How dare you bring that kind of shame upon our family!"

  "It's your shame, not mine." I lift my mom's hand, which is still clasping mine, and proudly show her. "Besides, you're not my family."

  "I gave you my baby!" my mom shrieks, throwing me momentarily off guard as I stumble back, only to be pulled upright by her firm grip. "You promised me you'd love her, and you and your husband abused her! You heartless, cold bitch!" The crowd gasps and murmurs. A few of the women are hissing and the men are swearing. Whatever is happening, it's working.

  "That's right." Mom pounds the air with her fist. "I have half a mind to bust open all that collagen in your face. I'll make those fat, ugly lips looked like popped airbags!" Mom shakes her fist at The Cobra and at Nora. "And I'll save one for your double-crossing friend, too."

  "No, Mom." I tug on her hand, pulling her toward the exit. "Let her wallow in her shame."

  The spectators part like the Red Sea when we walk out the door.

  Even though my dad is six feet under, I hope now that I've exposed him to all his friends at the club he once held so dear, his corpse will be rolling in its grave f
or the rest of his miserable eternity.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Christina

  I feel bad I didn't get to say goodbye to Tyler, but considering my mom and I were busy fleeing security guards, I didn't have much choice. I send a message to Mrs. James apologizing for skipping out on lunch. She writes back that she understands. She also tells me she's overheard several prominent club members calling for The Cobra's immediate expulsion from the club.

  I don't know what tastes sweeter, the revenge my mom and I got on those two snakes or the warm chocolate fudgy perfection that practically sends my taste buds into orgasmic convulsions. Though my mom was looking forward to her fish cakes, I don't think she's terribly upset, as she moans with each bite of "The World's Best Brownie." Yeah, we're at my favorite café again. I'm honestly starting to think I've got a brownie addiction, but after the week I've had, I'd say I earned it.

  My mom has earned it, too, after her performance at the country club. Have I mentioned lately she's my hero? If I were to rate her on the mom scale, I'd say she achieved rock star status today.

  "Mrs. James seemed pleasant enough."

  I look at her. Gone is the vicious mamma bear defending her cub. She smiles sweetly and dabs the corners of her mouth with her paper napkin.

  "Yes," I say as I sip coffee. Yeah, it's my second cup, but it's decaf, so I don't think it counts. "But something about her is off. I think she's got a drinking problem."

  She flashes a knowing grin. "That was a rather big Long Island Iced Tea for so early in the afternoon."

  My mouth falls open. "Oh, is that what that was?" Geez. It's barely past noon, and she's already hitting the sauce. She also mentioned something about drinking wine at night. I wonder if her drinking is a habitual thing. That would mean little Ty has traded one addict parent for another. Now I understand why Tyler wasn't disciplined when he was throwing fries. She was probably too drunk to care. This is so not good.

  "What's the matter?" I look over at Mom, who's frowning at me mid-bite, a chunk of brownie suspended on the faux silver fork in front of her lips.