Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,195

you.”

“Ms. James?” It could be no worse than Grip’s mother knowing this about me. Knowing that her son’s girlfriend, whom she already dislikes, will be bartering her body for all the world to see. “She knows . . . she called . . . what’s going on?”

“Bristol, do keep up.” Impatience wrinkles my mother’s smooth brow. “Marlon asked his mother to call me about your predicament. Wisely, I might add. How could you even consider such nonsense? I raised you better than that.”

With everything else I’ve had to endure the last twenty-four hours, my mother’s selective memory is more than I can withstand right now.

“Actually nannies were primarily responsible for my upbringing, if you’ll recall, since you were managing Rhyson all over the world and couldn’t be bothered to actually parent.”

The temperature in the room drops so drastically, my words crystallize in the air as soon as they leave my mouth.

“Maybe I should have been more involved if you think this is acceptable behavior.” Mother tsks and studies her wedding rings. “Debasing yourself this way for a man.”

Laughter stirs in my belly and spills over, shaking my shoulders. I throw my head back and howl with it. I may be hysterical, but she is absolutely blind if she can say that to me with a straight face.

“The joke?” Mother asks with quiet dignity. “Please share it.” “You accused me of debasing myself for a man.”

My laughter does a slow leak until it’s all spent, leaving me hollow and insulted. “At least I know the man I debase myself for is worth every minute of it. I’d debase myself for Grip every day if I had to. And the man you’ve been debasing yourself for the last thirty-odd years? Is he worth it?”

Mother’s hostile eyes narrow on my face. Her hands clench into slim, beringed fists.

“You have no idea what my marriage is, what your father and I have.”

“Don’t you think I got an inkling when I caught him fucking a girl my age in our house? In your bed, and you did nothing but get drunk and cry about it?”

“How dare you.” Mother snaps to her feet. “I came here to help you.”

“Help yourself, Mother.” I stand, too, needing to be on level ground with her. “Do you know how much time I wasted trying to please you? Trying to be you? Trying not to be you? You were such a contradiction, I wasn’t sure if I should emulate you or eradicate you from my nature.”

“Only you can’t, can you?” Her eyes are solemn. “You think I wanted to fall in love with a man who cared so little for my feelings?”

Her bitter laugh echoes in the empty living room.

“It doesn’t pay to love, Bristol. I had hoped you learned that lesson from me with your father. With your brother.”

“Is that what happened?” I blink against tears that have nothing to do with Parker and everything to do with my mother standing in front of me telling me not to love. “You gave all your love to them and there was none left for me? They were worth the risk and I wasn’t?”

“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Mother frowns but takes her seat again by the Celine bag. “I guided you as much as you would let me.”

“I didn’t want to be guided, Mother. I wanted to be loved, but there was always a distance. You would only allow me so close.”

“That was for your own good. You were already too much like me.”

“It doesn’t have to be a weakness, you know,” I say softly. “With the right people, with the right man, love rewards hearts like ours.”

“Oh, so it’s strength that has you ready to fuck Charles Parker?” Mother asks, the crudity so at odds with her refined appearance. “Is that your reward?”

“No, Grip is my reward,” I volley back without hesitation. “For him, I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”

I look down at my bare feet sunken into the plush rug covering my hardwoods.

“I love him. He loves me. You do crazy things for the ones you love sometimes. You accept things you thought you never would. You know that better than most.”

Mother studies me appraisingly for a few moments before speaking.

“I do know.” She twists her wedding band. “It’s liberating knowing there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him, to keep him. And it can also be a dark lonely trap, with love as your prison cell.”

“Not for me,” I say softly. “Not with Grip.