Shanna’s breathing was shallow, but when she spoke again, her voice sounded steadier. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you the truth.”
“Yes, but I understand why you didn’t. You were scared. And between me and Chris, he’s definitely the one in a financial position to help.” Dylan’s tone became stern. “With that said, I need you to tell me exactly how serious this is financially, so I know how much money to start sending you every month.”
Her gaze flew to his. “What? No, Dylan. You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to do that.”
“Tough shit.”
She raised her eyebrows and shot him that disapproving Mom look he’d been on the receiving end of many times growing up.
“Tough cookies,” he amended guiltily. “I’m serious, though. I’m involved in this now, and I’m doing my part whether you like it or not.”
Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “All right.”
“Good. Now before we get into all the unpleasant money stuff…” He reached for the present he’d left on the weathered pine coffee table and held it out. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”
Her radiant smile got him all choked up again, and when he saw her awed expression after she removed the glass angel from its box, he was feeling teary-eyed himself.
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Her gaze drifted to the glass cabinet across the room, which held all the other angels she’d been collecting since before Dylan was even born. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him so tightly he could hardly breathe. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said through the lump in his throat.
They both fell silent, until Shanna finally cleared her throat. “Why don’t I make us some coffee? You can open some presents, and then…then we can discuss everything else that needs to be discussed.”
“Sounds good. I’ll keep you company in the kitchen.”
They had only taken two steps toward the doorway when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out and saw Claire’s number, then turned to his mom. “Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll join you in a sec.”
He waited until Shanna was out of earshot before answering with a soft, “Hey, honey, how did it go with Chris?”
“It didn’t,” was the curt response.
“What do you mean, it didn’t?”
“I mean, he didn’t show up.” Claire sounded so incensed her voice was trembling.
Battling a rush of disbelief, Dylan lowered his voice. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yep, he texted five minutes after I got to the apartment, saying he received a last-minute invitation to have lunch with Lowenstein at some cigar bar and he simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity. But he was considerate enough to speak to me via Bluetooth while he drove there.”
Disgust and amazement mingled in Dylan’s blood. “So what did he say?”
“The same thing he told you the day at the wedding, how he and I weren’t a good match, we were making a mistake, yada yada.”
“And what did you say?”
“I agreed with him and told him I’d been having the same doubts.”
“Okay, that sounds cordial enough. Was that it?”
Her long pause was all the answer he needed.
“Aw, fuck, tell me what happened, Claire.”
A sigh rippled over the line. “Well, we talked about the apartment for a few minutes. He said he’d like to keep living there. I said fine, I didn’t care.”
“And?”
“He asked how I spent my time off and how my holidays were. I said I was in San Diego with you and that the holidays were great.”
“And?”
“And then I told him I knew that he’d brought another woman on what was supposed to be our honeymoon.”
Dylan held his breath. “And?”
“And he went ballistic! You should have heard him, Dylan. He got insanely defensive. He didn’t deny it, but he refused to talk about it either. It was so fucking infuriating!” She huffed out another breath. “He felt no remorse over it, and he didn’t even apologize or admit it was insensitive to take someone on our trip! Oh, and then he accused me of sleeping with you.”
The breath he’d been holding slipped out in a ragged burst. “And?”
“And…well, I may have flown into a bit of a rage and said some things I shouldn’t have.”
Dylan didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. “Oh, honey, what’d you do?”
“I yelled for a bit. Called him an ass and a prick and said I was ridiculously glad I didn’t marry him. So then he accused me again of sleeping with you, and I was like, hell yeah, I am, and I told him he was half the man that you are and…um…” Her voice was barely audible now. “Well, I may or may not have said that you were a million times better in bed. And then I hung up on him.”
Laughter won out, tickling his throat before bursting out of his mouth. “Fuck, Claire, I really do love that fiery redhead temper of yours.”
“Are you mad at me?”