Bad Boy Ink (Get Ink'd #5) - Ali Lyda Page 0,64

bit.

You're a goddamn liar.

Bryce beamed, the joy radiating out from him in waves. “Awesome. I can't wait.”

Did I spend the entire week freaking out and overanalyzing Friday's introduction?

Hell, yes, I did.

I was at work Thursday night and really bumbling the repair on a broken laptop. I knew that Bryce wasn't in contact with his parents, so I had to assume but he planned to introduce me to his grandmother, and I hoped to hell that she liked me. Because I was pretty sure her opinion would be a dealbreaker if she didn't.

When someone said my name, I startled and dropped the miniature screwdriver I'd been using. Flushing, I looked up to see who was there, only to inhale sharply when I recognized my mother.

She was dressed as she usually was, in an expensive, tailored sheath dress. This one was an emerald green that highlighted her salon perfect blonde hair and beautiful clear skin, made possible by exorbitantly expensive products.

My mother could not have looked more uncomfortable if she tried. While I had many customers who were in the upper echelon of society, this was the sort of thing my mother had someone else do for her. I wasn't sure she had been in a mall in over twenty years.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, making my voice hard.

She took a tentative step closer to me. “I've been thinking about you since we saw you at the bistro.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, that might be the most you've thought about me in … I'd guess forever.”

My mother went red at my tone. “I asked around and found out where you worked?” she said this like it was a question. But if it was, I had no fucking clue what the answer was. I just waited, pinning her with my gaze and wishing she would just leave. Her hands were twisting together in front of her. “I wanted to check on you.”

Shrugging, I gestured to the store around us. “Here I am. Working and making money. Finishing school. A grown man who can take care of himself and doesn't need Mommy to come and check in.”

I wasn't attempting to hide the animosity I felt clawing inside, and my mother's red-slicked lower lip trembled. She had the audacity to look as if I had wounded her. She didn't get to be hurt! If anyone deserved to be hurting right now, it should be me.

“Are you kidding me?” I pointed a finger at her. “You don't get to have hurt feelings. The day you abandoned me, the day you kicked me out of your house with a check and the understanding that I wasn't welcome back, wasn’t wanted, you lost the privilege of hurt feelings.”

Dark emotions long ignored bubbled like hot tar. It was as if my chest were being ripped open in the middle of a fucking phone store, heart beating its blood out for all to see. I despised her for it.

With wet eyes, she stepped closer, lowering her voice. Ever aware of how she appeared in other people's eyes.

“You know how your father is,” she pleaded. “I didn't want this for you, but I didn't have a choice.”

My laugh was bitter and harsh. “That's just it, Mom. You did have a choice. You chose him, knowing what he was like, over me. Your son. A mother is supposed to protect her child. It was your job to be on my side, and you let me down. So don't come into my job and act as if you have any right to speak to me like your child.”

My mouth tasted sour and everything ached. She looked as if she would cry for a moment, but my mother was a professional at this. At appearing to be collected even when it felt like the world was on fire. She pulled a handkerchief from her small purse and dabbed at her eyes and nose until she was fully composed. All evidence of her emotions had been wiped away.

“Well, I suppose all I can say is that I'm sorry. I made the wrong choice and I know that. I'm the one that has to live with him now.” My outrage must have shown on my face because she quickly changed tactics. “I can't change the mistakes of the past. I can only own up to them and hope that one day you can forgive me.”

A hundred different replies burst through my mind. Most falling along the lines of “fat chance.” But I