King's Wrath (Sydney Storm MC 5)

I followed her into my tiny kitchen so I could grab the eggs and bacon I’d cooked for breakfast. “I’m thinking of extending my celibacy just to annoy the fuck out of you.”

Her lips flattened and she shook her head at me. “Six months is long enough.” She gathered the juice and coffee pot and took them into the dining room while continuing on. “I could set that dating profile I made for you to public. Mmm, maybe I will. You’ll have a list of suitors by the end of the day.”

I joined her and placed the food on the table while hitting her with a stern expression. “Don’t you dare. And who says suitors anymore?” And whose mother even kept track of their daughter’s sex life like this?

A smile lit her face. My mother was a beautiful woman, but when she smiled, she glowed. And she looked all of forty-five rather than the fifty-five she was. “I could call them beaus if you’d prefer.”

And she would, if only to exasperate me. She liked to use flowery language and big words and long freaking sentences because she knew it irritated me. I was all about getting to the point and getting there fast.

Turning to face the lounge room, I called out, “Kids! Breakfast is ready.”

Mum’s lips flattened again. “Really, Lily, must you always yell?”

It’s going to be a long day.

It was only 7:00 a.m. and I’d already dealt with a clogged shower drain, a cat that had clawed her way through the screen on my back door, and the cranky old man who lived next door and who always wanted to talk to me about my children at six in the morning.

I took a deep breath before saying, “I like to use the beautiful voice you gave me.”

She always liked it when I engaged in positive self-talk. I mean, it wasn’t that I didn’t believe it, but I wasn’t convinced today was gonna be a day for extreme positivity. Some days you just had to get through. They couldn’t all be days of profound thoughts and actions, could they? Today was possibly gonna be a survive-rather-than-thrive kinda day.

The sounds of my children running through the house filled my ears. I counted to three in my head, knowing it would only take my mother that long to say what she always said.

“Children, the food isn’t going anywhere. You don’t need to run through the house.”

Yep, without fail. She’d said it to my sister and me while we were growing up, too. You had to wonder if she ever got sick of saying it.

The whirlwind that was my children filled the dining room, and I watched as the three of them scrambled for their breakfast before they’d hardly taken a seat. Even Robbie, which was odd. He was my eight-year-old nerd who loved to read more than eat, but this morning he was all about the food, too.

I frowned at him. “Are you okay, baby?”

Zara stopped filling her plate for a moment and looked up at me. “He’s on a mission to get back to his iPad.”

I didn’t have to ask him why. Robbie was currently obsessed with a YouTube science show, and they’d just released their latest episode.

Smiling, I said, “Ah, I get it.”

Mum sat down and threw in her two cents. “Whatever is on that iPad can wait. We’re enjoying our breakfast together this morning.”

God.

Help.

Me.

She was in a mood for all her old-school ways this morning, and I was far from being in the kind of mood to just let her be. Usually I simply ignored her, but then again, she didn’t usually start the day with a lecture on opening my vagina up for anyone who wanted in.

I sat next to my oldest daughter, Holly, who shot me a sympathetic look, and said, “Mum, we always have our breakfast together.”

“Yes, but you always just let the kids leave the table whenever they want. I don’t get to have breakfast with you very often, and for once, I’d just like everyone to take their time so we can catch up.”

I tried not to laugh. And I also made a mental note to say no next time she asked if she could sleep over. I mean, my mother lived five freaking minutes away from us, yet she was acting like she lived in another state and hardly ever saw us.

“You know my thoughts on this. Please don’t push me to defend them,” I said. She and I often argued over the way I raised my kids. I didn’t rule with an iron fist, and she would have preferred a little more of that style.

She finished filling her plate with food and stopped for a moment. “I’m not asking you to defend them. I’m simply asking for some time with my grandchildren. Is that too much to ask?”

If she was going to be so intent on being this dramatic, I was going to need a smoke.