Billionaire's Single Mom

"See? A mouthful of Skittles makes everything okay," Riley grinned as we pulled away from the curb.

"Indeed, it does," I nodded as I forced a cheerful smile on my lips and wished it were true.

"Do you think Gram will ever stop hounding you about finding a man?" Riley asked. Sometimes she was a typical twelve-year-old, and other times she cut right to the heart of things with the wisdom of someone well beyond her years.

"I don't know," I shrugged as I looked at her and brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. Riley ducked her head and moved away from me. "Sorry, force of habit. I don't know if Gram will ever change. I don't think so, but we can always hope."

"Was she this mean to my mom?" Riley asked as she stared out the window. "I mean, was it Gram who made her go away?"

"No, no one made your mom go away, kiddo," I said, knowing that while I wasn't lying, I also wasn't telling the truth. "She made a choice to go, and she went."

"Mmm-hmm," Riley replied, not looking at me. I watched her closely as she used her finger to draw a smiley face on the window. Then quietly, she added, "Maybe she made the choice because she had to."

"I don't know why your mom made the choice to leave, Riley," I said as we pulled up in front of her school. "I know she loved you very much, and that if she decided to leave it must have been for a good reason."

She turned and looked at me for a moment before opening the car door and getting out. I watched her carefully close the door, wave to me, and then head up the sidewalk. Halfway to the door, she stopped and turned around. I waved as the cab pulled away from the curb. Riley saluted me, then turned, and sauntered up the steps and through the front door.

I wanted to go back and wrap my arms around her and tell her how much I missed Molly too, but duty called. I let the moment pass.

Chapter Five

Jack

I was finishing my fourth scotch when Jimmy pulled up in front of the funeral home where my father's wake was being held. I knocked back the last of the liquid courage and stepped out of the car.

I knew my father had been widely respected by his customers and employees, but his funeral was more than I had anticipated. There were limos and town cars as far as I could see, and small groups of people gathered together in the parking lot, sharing cigarettes and flasks as they quietly conversed.

As I walked through the front door, I was met with a noxious odor. It was created by the hundreds of floral displays lining the hallway leading to the room where my father's casket rested. I kept my head down as I quickly moved toward the spot where my mother stood, shaking hands and receiving condolences.

"Mother," I said quietly as I moved in behind her.

"Jackson!" she gasped as she turned and looked up at me. She looked tired, her face ravaged by grief, but she still had an ethereal beauty about her. Her long, grey hair was artfully arranged in layers framing her face, and her makeup had been professionally done in a way that allowed her to cry openly without leaving rivers of mascara running down her cheeks. She was wearing a black hat with a veil, a black knit suit, and black leather pumps. While she looked like the consummate widow, she didn't look like the mother I remembered.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said as she threw her arms around my neck, clinging to me. I could feel her fighting back the sobs as she held onto me. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly as I looked straight ahead at my father's casket.

"I didn't know if you were coming home or not," she choked out as she let go enough to step back and look up at me. I could see the pain in her eyes, but I ignored it.

"I didn't know if I could," I said without emotion. "But here I am."

"I'm so glad you came," she said as she laid a hand on my cheek and smiled sadly. "I know your father would have appreciated it."

"I'm sure he would have," I said flatly as I looked over at the open casket just to make sure it was, in fact, my father lying in it. "He'd have liked one more chance to tell me how much I messed up my life."

"Jackson, please," my mother quietly pleaded. "Not today. Please, not today."

"Fine," I said curtly. "Not today."

"Or any other day," my brother added as he joined the family circle nodding at me. "Jack."

"Lincoln," I said in the same blank tone. My older brother was the star of the family. He was the one who had done everything my father had expected and had, for all intents and purpose, been his right hand man for years. He was two years older than me, but people often mistook us for twins. I didn't expect that to happen today, though, since I'd decided to forgo shaving and had left my tie in my suitcase. I'd done it on purpose, knowing that my father would have been appalled by my lack of decorum.

"Good of you to make it," Lincoln said looking me over and then shaking his head. "Couldn't you have dressed properly for the occasion—or shaved, at the very least?"

"I guess I lack your impeccable sense of dress and hygiene, brother dear," I said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "But then again, I don't have a wife who maps out every minute detail of my life for me and tells me how to function."

"I wonder why that is," Lincoln said, raising an eyebrow as he leaned forward and added, "It couldn't be because you're incapable of forming any kind of relationship that requires you to stick around longer than 48 hours, could it?"

"No,” I shot back with venom, “but it could be because I never had my head so far up my father's ass that I'd let him pick out a woman for me to marry."