Tangled(62)

Plus, you know that saying “Mother knows best”? Yes, it’s annoying. But is it accurate? Abso-fucking-lutely. I’ve never known my mother to be wrong. About anything. So at this moment, her opinion is my most valuable resource. I know what I think I should do to fix things with Kate, but I want confirmation that it’s actually the right thing to do. This is new territory for me. And I can’t afford to screw it up.

Again.

My mother starts talking about chicken soup and cold compresses. But I cut her off.

“Mom—I haven’t been sick. Not like you think, anyway.”

With a sigh, I dive into the whole sordid tale. The abridged, G-rated version.

Sort of feels like confession.

After I describe the morning in my office where I screwed the pooch with Kate—okay, you’re right, where I pretty much fucked the whole kennel—my mother lets loose a sorrowful “Oh, Drew.”

My stomach flips with regret and disappointment. What I wouldn’t give for a time machine.

I finish the story of my downfall and go on to explain my plans to unfuck myself tomorrow. After I’m done, she’s quiet for a few seconds. And then she does the last thing I’d expect my polite, reserved mother to do.

She laughs. “You’re so much like your father. Sometimes I wonder if you got any of my DNA at all.”

I’ve never really seen any similarities between my dad and me. Except our love of business—our drive to succeed. We’ve always been evenly matched in that respect. Otherwise, my father’s as straight-laced as they come. A dedicated, loyal family man through and through. Pretty much the opposite of me in every way.

“I am?”

She’s still chuckling. “One day I’ll tell you how your dad and I really ended up together at Columbia. And I’ll include all the dirty little details he never wanted you to know.”

If that story involves sex in any way, I don’t want to hear it.

Ever.

As far as I’m concerned, my parents have had sex two times in their entire lives. Once for Alexandra and once for me. That’s it. On some level I realize I’m deluding myself, but this is one topic where I prefer to live in denial.

“As for you and Kate, I imagine she’ll be quite…impressed with what you have planned. Eventually. At first, I’m guessing she’ll be livid. You should be prepared for that, Drew.”

I’m kind of counting on it. Remember that fine line Matthew talked about?

“I have to ask you though, dear—are you sure? Are you absolutely positive that Kate Brooks is the young lady for you? Not just as a lover but as a friend, a companion, a partner? You need to be certain, Drew. It’s wrong to toy with someone’s feelings; you don’t need me to tell you that.”

There’s reproach in her voice now—the same tone she used when I was eight and got caught reading Alexandra’s diary.

“I’m a hundred percent sure. It’s Kate or…nothing.”

I’m still shocked by how true this is. And, frankly, scared shitless.

I mean, even before I nailed Kate, my interest in fucking any other woman had started to fade. Drastically. And it wasn’t really because they were a bad lay. It was because they weren’t Kate. If, by some catastrophe, Kate won’t take me back, I might as well shave my head and move to frigging Tibet.

I hear the monks are hiring.

“Well then, here’s my advice: Be relentless. Unyielding. Absolutely persistent in your pursuit. If your confidence wavers at all, Kate will take that as a sign that your affection may waver as well. You’ve already given her several reasons not to believe in you; don’t let your insecurities give her more. Be sweet, Drew. Be honest. Act like the man I raised you to be. The man I know you are.”

I smile. And just like that, I know—without question—that somehow, some way, I’ll make this right.

“Thanks, Mom.”

As I’m about to say goodbye, she adds, “And for goodness’ sake, as soon as you clear up this situation, I want both of you over at the house for dinner. I want to meet the woman who’s got my son wrapped around her finger. She must be extraordinary.”

A hundred snapshots of Kate jump into my head at once…

Kate at her desk, glasses on. All brilliance and determination. A force to be reckoned with.

Kate laughing at one of my inappropriate comments. Introducing Matthew to Dee-Dee. Helping Steven out of a jam.

Kate in my arms—so fucking passionate and giving. Trusting and open. Her below me, above me, around me, matching me move for move, moan for moan.

I smile wider.

“She is, Mom. She really is.”





Time for a history lesson, kids.