She didn’t flinch away, accepting his show of support. In fact, she glanced up at him and smiled.
“Who are you to my daughter?” Marilyn’s shrill voice captured his attention. She perched her hands on her slim hips, her annoyance clear.
So much for niceties. She hadn’t even acknowledged his greeting. He wanted to shove his relationship with Amanda in this woman’s face but knew better. Amanda appeared shocked, and the more her mother spoke, with her belittling tone and disgusted looks, the more Amanda quietly pulled into herself.
“We’re friends,” he said, hating the taste of the word on his tongue because they were so much more.
Marilyn nodded but her eyes narrowed. Clearly she was shrewd.
“I hope that’s all you are. Because I can already see your influence, and it’s not good. It’s bad enough she works for that … that man who wears tee shirts instead of a suit and tie, but at least his father is someone important. And now she’s hanging out with the likes of you.” She wrinkled her nose.
Decklan figured she wasn’t impressed with his cargo shorts and tee shirt. Or maybe it was the razor stubble he favored on his days off. Personally, he didn’t give a shit what she thought of him, but for Amanda, he cared.
“That’s enough,” Amanda said, her tone suddenly stronger. “There’s no need to talk like that to Decklan. He’s a good man, a good … friend, and he’s a cop, which takes courage and common decency. I’d appreciate it if you’d show him respect.”
He wanted to linger on the fact that she’d stumbled over the word friends, but instead, he was hung up on how she’d stood up to her mother for him but not for herself.
“There’s no need to defend me,” he told Amanda.
“Yes, there is. Come on. You don’t need to listen to this.” She tugged on his hand.
“You don’t mean to leave me standing here, do you? I raised you better,” Marilyn said.
Decklan had had enough. “Lady, if you raised her to be the way you wanted, I wouldn’t want anything to do with her. Luckily, she has a mind of her own, and she’s as beautiful inside as she is out.”
Marilyn’s eyes opened wide. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“I just did.”
Amanda stepped between them. “Why did you come by?” Amanda asked, resigned.
“Oh, now you care? Your father wanted you to know he was going in for a stress test next week. But I’ll let him know his ungrateful daughter didn’t have time to listen.” And with that pronouncement, she strode toward her car, ignoring any questions Amanda asked.
Her mother shut the car door and started the engine.
Amanda turned to him, pain etched across her face. “I can’t believe her. Well, I can, but still. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“It’s not me she verbally abused.” Not as much as she had Amanda. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Oh, that’s a long story.”
“One I want to hear, but let’s go inside first, okay?”
She nodded and he followed her inside and up the stairs. Once inside, she turned to him. “Listen, I’m going to change and call my dad before my mother gets back home and fills his head with more awful things about me. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“Does he have a heart condition?” Decklan asked.
She shrugged. “Not that I know of. And I figure if my mother could take the half hour to leave him and drive over here to lecture me, he must be okay, at least for now.”
He inclined his head. “Go. See what’s going on.”
“Thanks.” She headed into the bedroom.
He hated the mood and defeated tone her mother had instilled and was determined to undo the emotional damage the other woman had caused.
While he waited, he couldn’t stop replaying the awful words her mother had spewed at her. Everything from her job to her dress, and worst of all, her weight—the woman hadn’t had one nice thing to say. If Decklan wanted a primer on what made Amanda tick, he’d just gotten one, and it made him furious.
He heard her low voice from the other room. He shrugged and walked around the spacious apartment, taking in her home for the first time. Just as he’d expect, the place was full of warmth and personal touches. From soft, muted pastels for color to landscapes hanging on the walls, to the occasional photograph, he felt welcomed. At home.