“It’s work, Penelope.” She says it like I don’t understand the meaning of the word. “I apologize if my making a valuable contribution to society hurts your feelings,” she says dryly, “but the world doesn’t slow down just because you’ve decided to go and get yourself pregnant.”
“Excuse me?” I blink at her harsh words.
“It’s time for you to grow up. Understand how the adult world works. Your life revolves around getting attention from me and frankly, I’d expected that you’d be self-sufficient by now.” Her focus drops back to her computer and she huffs.
I grip my belly protectively and growl. “Nothing in my life has ever been important to you. Nothing, Mom.” The hotel’s guests are staring. I can’t bring myself to care.
“Well maybe that’s because you’ve never done anything attention-worthy.” The words hit me hard and suddenly, I’ve never felt more loneliness, sadness. Rising to her feet, she glares at me, so much disappointment in her eyes. “I afforded you every opportunity. Every possibility a young girl could ever dream of. And what did you do? Bartending all throughout your twenties. And don’t get me started on this whole interior design mess. I did not send you to the most prestigious school north of Chicago so you could end up choosing lampshades and pillow cases for a living. And now, this baby nonsense—”
I hear a roar rip through the air behind me. “Enough!”
I spin around and find Walker standing there. Chest bare and heaving. Jaw angled sharply. Lips pressed firmly together.
With one massive step, he approaches my mother. “You think you’re all important with your big lawsuits and your big ego. But lady, you suck.”
My mother visibly recoils and gasps out loud. “You will not speak to me like that.”
Walker stands in front of me like a shield. “I will speak to you in whatever way necessary to get the message across.” I can feel his rage beaming off of him in waves. “I drove my pregnant girlfriend all the way into the city for this event to make sure you would be here. All of her friends left Crescent Harbor and came down here to make sure you would be here. The whole reason this baby shower is happening in this very hotel was to make sure you would be here. To make it easier for you to attend your own daughter’s baby shower. Because regardless of all the times you’ve disappointed her, she loves you. She hasn’t given up on you. And this is how you treat her?”
I peer at my mother as she scowls wordlessly at Walker. I’ve never seen her look so small.
“What’s the point of your life if you refuse to connect with anybody? What’s the point if your own daughter can’t depend on you? All the success in the world means nothing if you’re a shitty human being. You’re not impressing anybody.”
My mother glares in silence for a long beat. Then, with an iron jaw, she simply grabs her things. “There’s nothing left to say here.” She stomps out of the building, not looking back.
In that moment, I know—I’m done with this. Done with her.
Fuck it. I don’t need her anymore.
With a hand on my shoulder, Walker guides me toward the elevator, leaving a crowd of gape-jawed spectators in the lobby.
Once the lift’s doors close, I collapse against his strong chest. He swallows me up with his arms and whispers into my hair. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Princess.”
Tucked against his body, I mumble. "I'm tired of not being good enough for her.” I wrap my arms around him, hoping that will somehow ease the pain. “I gave my mother a piece of my liver and even that couldn’t get her to love me.”
He tilts my face up so his stare meets mine. “Fuck that lady,” he says. “I’m giving you a piece of my heart. Hell, I’m giving you all of it. And I’m wanting you to give me a piece of yours. I love you. I want you. I’ll claim you. I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you. Forever.”
All I can do is hold him. “I love you.”
He escorts me back to my baby shower, his laser glare keeping the male strippers at bay. He leaves me with my friends and the girls shower me with gifts and attention and love.
And right there, I decide—I have all the validation I need in my life. Patricia Merlini may have birthed me but she is not my mother, she never has been, and now I’m okay with that.
I don’t need her anymore.
When the party is over, I go back to my hotel room and I make beautiful love to my man. Then, he holds me tight against his body.
Tangled up in the sheets, in the dark room, he kisses my scalp. “Are you okay?”
I nod against the pillow. “Yes, I’m okay. Better than okay. I feel…free.”
Walker locks me in a protective embrace and I feel safe. But I also feel strong. And that’s a beautiful gift. With our babies growing inside me, I fall asleep, snuggled up next to my soulmate.
So, when his phone rings in the middle of the night and he bolts upright in the bed, I know it’s my turn to be strong for him.
I sit up, too, and rest a hand on his tense back. Faintly, I hear a panicked male voice bleeding through the speaker but I can’t make out the words.
With the phone clutched to his ear, Walker swings his legs over the side of the mattress.
“You’re what?” he growls into the phone. “You’re in jail?”
57
Walker
Bert Peters trails a uniformed officer down the fluorescent-lit hallway of the Crescent Harbor police station.
His dark hair is sticking up in all directions and
