Tempted

“Did you just sniff me?” she asks.

“That sounds like something I’ve heard in a movie.” I chuckle. “Yes, yes I did just sniff you. It’s your fault for wearing whatever that is. It’s intoxicating, devil woman.”

She laughs. “Devil woman? What pray tell have I done to warrant that moniker?”

I stare at her for a few moments and take in the delicate angles of her face. Making my way back to her almond eyes, I smile.

“You have entranced me, Bailey, and I’m not sure what to do with it.”

She only smiles as she finally sits in my Jaguar.

The drive to my mother’s is silent. It’s a direct contrast to the excitement of seeing each other a few minutes ago.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Tilting her head to the side, Bailey says, “I’m petrified.” She bites her lip, obviously afraid of my response.

“I could lie and tell you everything will be all right, but honestly, I have no idea what to expect. My mother and I . . . Well, we haven’t had the best relationship over the past few years. She’s always been a very strong force. I wouldn’t say she was an absent mother, but she was authoritative and very busy. She wasn’t nurturing, but she wasn’t always cold either. I know I’m not making sense.”

I’m getting flustered. Explaining my conundrum of a mom is a challenge. Half the time, I don’t know where we stand or what her motives are. I’ve always felt loved by her, but I wouldn’t say we’ve ever been close.

Bailey shakes her head. “No, I get it.”

Such simple words and if they had come from anyone else, I’d have passed them off as words to placate me, but somehow, I know Bailey truly does get it.

“My father was a workaholic. But he loved my sister and me dearly. My mother, on the other hand, was too preoccupied with herself. I know now she did love me; she just didn’t know how to show it. Certainly not with words and cuddling.” She shrugs.

I want to make a joke at the cuddle mention, but she is so vulnerable at this moment. I don’t want her to take my jest the wrong way. So I just say, “Exactly. I wish I could prepare you for my mom, but who knows what we’ll get. She has always been very adamant about me dating someone from our country club or another trust fund girl.”

I cringe that I even mentioned it, and I see her face fall. She’s white as a ghost, and I know I’ve fucked it up.

“No, no, Bailey. It doesn’t matter what she wants. I want you. Just be yourself, and she’ll love you.”

Grabbing her hand in mine, I bring it to my lips. When she finally smiles, I give her hand one final squeeze of reassurance as we pull up to the front gate of the Lawson Estate. Looking at Bailey, I watch as her eyes go wide. I probably should have prepared her a little more for just how wealthy we are.

“What the hell? You didn’t say your father is Daddy Warbucks.”

I snicker at the reference. Not quite, but close. No need to petrify her further.

I take her up the stairs and pray I’m not walking her into a fire. I grab the handle, but the door flings open. Mother is standing on the other side in a pair of leggings and a long tunic. What. The. Actual fuck? My mother never dresses down. Never. I haven’t seen this woman in less than her Sunday best in my twenty-eight years of life.

“Drew. I’m so glad to see you.” Her smile is warm, and she looks sincere. It’s startling.

“Mother, are you feeling well?” I cock my eyebrow up in question. Perhaps she meant to cancel and forgot.

“Silly boy. I’m fantastic. I’m so glad you came. Don’t be rude. Come in, come in, and introduce me to this beautiful girl you have on your arm.”

Bailey smiles a hesitant smile and looks back and forth between the two of us. She has no idea what to make of this. That makes two of us. I just shrug. Not helpful, I know, but I think we are both out of our element today.

“Mother, this is Bailey Jameson. Bailey, my mother, Cynthia.”

“Drew Lawson, stop being so proper. It’s pretentious. I’m Mom.” She rolls her eyes at me. She actually rolls her damn eyes. I’m about to call Dr. Palmer. I think she’s having a stroke or started the downward spiral into Alzheimer’s. Either way, it isn’t good.

“Okay, Mom . . . Are you all right?”

She smooths down her chestnut hair. “Heavens, yes. Stop looking at me like that and get out of the foyer. Bailey doesn’t want to stand all day. Jeez, have you lost your mind?”

I might have.

In all honesty, I’m kind of feeling like Alice being thrust down a rabbit hole after ingesting a handful of whatever shrooms the creator of that story was on. Bailey looks at my dumbfounded face and laughs, and her laughter makes me laugh, which in turn has my mom laughing. What the fuck we’re laughing at is beyond me, but hell, it’s better than screaming.