Mr. Mitchell Billionaires' Club Book 2 - Raylin Marks Page 0,11
act like you’re not a single mom, okay?”
We hugged, she left, and her words started to weigh on me. Am I a complete moron for considering this? I was getting way too caught up in my vacation, and I wasn’t thinking about the most important person in my life: my daughter.
It was such a refreshing feeling to be here and make an impulsive decision, thinking of no one but myself. I hadn’t had that luxury since Addy was born, and feeling so careless and free was intoxicating.
Shit. I might as well go home now that I’m fucking thinking about Derek again. I did not doubt that son of a bitch would find a way to get his family to back him, getting a lawyer so he could take Addison from me. He wasn’t going to quit.
My problem was that I’d given his ass too many chances. I was a fool. How could I allow that piece of shit around my daughter for as long as I did?
Coming home from work and finding him passed out on the couch while he was supposed to be watching our then one-year-old child was the final straw, although there should’ve been so many last straws that came before. That time, I couldn’t overlook the five fucking cigarettes that had been lit at the wrong end, sitting on my burning gas stove while Addy was in her room, and he lay unconscious as my house was an inch away from burning down. He had been so out of his mind that he didn’t even know he was lighting his cigarette backward—five times in a row.
That situation created a terrifying question for me: what if the authorities took my daughter and put her in the system because I left her in the care of her drug-addict father? I allowed him to live with us. I did that. But there was no way I was allowing Addison to grow up in the system as I did. Over my dead body.
I had to stop thinking. I came out here to get away and take a breath from it all. I was heading right back down my self-destructive road of feeling like a shitty mom for believing my ex and all of his manipulative lies.
I needed to get out. I brushed out my hair and dried it as quickly as I could. I slid on fleece-lined leggings and an oversized sweater and flats, grabbed my purse, and headed for the door. I didn’t even check the clock or finish putting on my makeup. Just a touch of mascara, and now I was heading into this luxurious elevator, standing next to a gorgeous brunette wearing couture—nothing like fancy ladies in high fashion to make me feel like a self-loathing, country bumpkin.
As I exited on the ground level of the hotel lobby, I found a chair in a private corner of a lounge and pulled out my cell phone to dial my foster mom.
“Jill?” I said when she picked up.
“Hey, sweetie. I was just getting ready for bed. It’s morning for you, right? Did Britney leave for the Netherlands yet?”
“Yeah, she did. Sorry if I’m interrupting you trying to get some sleep, but I need some reassurance,” I said, knowing I could use some of her hippie advice with the way I was feeling.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just worried about Addy and Derek.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She chuckled. “Derek stopped by, but I gave him a piece of my mind. I called his parents too. They understand that Derek needs to stay away until after you get back. They miss her, but they get it.”
“Thank God.” I blew out a breath. “Okay. I’m going to try and enjoy the rest of the vacation. You’ll call if you have any problems, right?”
“Always. I told you I would. Stop worrying, and go enjoy yourself.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go. Love you.”
“Love you more, kiddo,” she said as she ended the call.
I thought I’d feel a little better after talking to Jill, but I didn’t. I didn’t get a chance to work out my anxiety in the gym this morning, and now my nerves were wound up. After ending my stupid drug addiction seven years ago, I wouldn’t go near pills of any kind, so instead of taking drugs for my anxiety, I worked out instead. Shit, I could probably have entered bodybuilding competitions for all the working out I did just to shake out my nerves.
I stood up, shouldered my purse, made a right out of the