Friends with Benefits - Nicole Blanchard Page 0,52

there was a new Birkin bag at her shoulder. She’d either used her five-finger discount or was deep in the throes of love with a new boyfriend who had money to burn.

The sight of her shocked me so much that I didn’t have words. I’d fully expected never to see her again. Once one month had turned into two, then two into three, and three into four, I’d written her off. As far as I’d been concerned, she was no longer a part of my life—let alone my mother—and I couldn’t care less if I ever saw her again.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here?”

My mom tipped down her sunglasses. God only knew why she was wearing them inside. “I live here.”

She tried to shoulder her way inside, but I wedged my foot in the bottom of the door so it wouldn’t budge. “What are you doing?” she demanded. The scent of stale cigarette smoke wafted from her stick-thin form.

My heart hammered in my chest. Confrontation with her was never my strongest suit, but I had the girls to think of. If they saw her when they got home from school, they’d flip. Guaranteed. She couldn’t keep flitting in and out of their lives like this without facing the consequences. If she wasn’t going to protect them, I was.

With a steadying breath, I said, “I’m trying to figure out what you think you’re doing. You can’t barge your way into our lives whenever it suits you. Do you realize what could have happened to Matilda and Molly when you left them here alone?”

Did she care? Even after more than twenty years of neglect, I still couldn’t figure it. She kept us around, but she also so easily walked away. How could someone who cared about you just walk away?

She started with a placating tone—one I’d heard a thousand times before. “Well, they’re fine, aren’t they? You’re a fancy medic. You can fix them up if something happens.” She rolled her eyes and tried shoving her way in again.

She rolled her eyes.

Something inside me snapped.

“You’re not coming in here,” I said, a steel edge to my voice.

I didn’t know if it was my bald refusal or my tone, but it caused her to take a step back.

She flipped her hair. “What did you say to me?”

My heart was beating so fast it felt as though it weren’t beating at all.

“I said you’re not coming in here. The twins will be home from school soon and seeing you would only upset them again. They only recently got used to you not being around. If you want to see them again, then I’ll talk to them and explain things, and we’ll meet somewhere for you to have lunch or something.”

Over my dead body. But I felt I at least owed it to them to give their mother a chance to be…well, a mother. Besides, when I had googled custody situations like this, the websites had said it was important to offer a chance at visitation. If we could show that my mom had been offered the opportunity to see the kids and had refused, then maybe I’d have a better standing. It was worth a shot. Fuck, I needed to see a lawyer and make this official so she couldn’t try and take the girls ever again.

“You’re going to tell me what to do with my kids?” she demanded, her eyes flashing in a way that reminded me all too much of myself. It made me a little sick to think that we could have something in common. The difference was, I’d never play games with another person simply to feel more in control.

“I’m going to tell you what to do with my sisters. I’m the one who’s always here for them. I pay for the roof over their heads. I have never, and I will never, abandon them. I am nothing like you.” My voice shook, but my hold on the door was resolute. She wasn’t coming in, not ever again, unless she proved that she could be the mother that the girls—that I—deserved.

My mother smirked, but it was shaky around the edges, like she was barely holding it together. “You’re more like me than you think.”

“You should leave,” I said without taking her bait. But God knew I wanted to. “If you want to see them, then we can schedule a time that works best for them. You’re never going to hurt them again, not if