Page 122 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession
I nod, bolstered by his reassurance. I’m feeling a bit more settled as the anti-nausea seems to have worked wonders. “Is she here yet?”
“Aye, she got here late enough last night and bunked down in the spare room. Don't know if she got a wink of sleep at all. She's been in bits, givin’ herself a hard time.”
Nodding, I let Twiggy take my backpack off me as I slowly make my way to the guest room and rap twice on the door.
She opens the door, and I see that Twiggy didn’t lie. Her eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, her face red and blotchy, eyes swollen almost shut. When she sees me, she crumples to the floor. I catch her on the way down.
“Goodness, Siobhán, I'm not worthy of this at all. Ye've come all the way from New York, and it’s not even been a day yet.”
Her build is slight, like mine, so I’m able to support her weight. I help her back to the bed. “Ma, you’ll make yourself sick. Please stop crying.”
“I can't, Siobhán. I just can't. The regret's eatin’ me up. It's no excuse, I know, but it feels like I've been under a spell these past years. Me little one. Me dear heart. Can ye find it in ye to forgive me? I’ve no right to be in yer life, but give me a chance to show ye how truly sorry I am. Please.”
I’m already in tears, too, and I look back to Twiggy for some help.
For hours, Ma, Twiggy, and I cry, we talk, and, to my utter surprise, we even laugh. It was cathartic to be able to tell her about the darkness, struggles, and pain.
My mother’s regret is palpable, and it’s hard for her to hear about those years on the street while she was steeped in self-righteousness. Twiggy does most of the talking, as I don’t think I would have been able to say much.
It’s too hard going through those emotions again, and by evening, I’m feeling very raw and vulnerable. I can't say I forgiveher yet. It's going to be a very long, very rock road to forgiveness but I'm open to try.
We get her to eat some tea and toast and finally get her to sleep around four in the afternoon.
“Ye did good, Bonnie,” Twiggy says as we shut the door.
“You think so?” I ask.
“Aye. Look, ye're some woman. So fierce and kindhearted. Not many would let her back in the way ye have, with no holdin’ back at all."
We planned that she would come to New York with me. Beyond that, I’m not sure. I resolve to take things one step at a time. It feels weird taking all these steps without Ethan in the loop.
I still haven’t heard from Ethan since yesterday. None of my messages are going through. I just can't deal with another emotional beating right now.
Twiggy pulls me into the kitchen. "You look wrecked, love. Bet you've not had a bite all day."
I shake my head. Remembering the anti-nausea medicine—and oh, crap! I need to take a pregnancy test and speak to Ethan before the deadline.
“Any word from yer fella yet?” Twiggy asks. He knows I’ve been trying to reach Ethan all day.
I shake my head. I’d earlier admitted to Twiggy that Ethan was more than just my boss when he just wouldn’t let the Rolls-Royce matter rest the last time I visited for Nan’s funeral.
I check my phone to see that Jordan has replied to say he's 'on it.'
“It’s been a whole day. It’s so unlike him, Twiggy. He checks in with me every few hours, even when we’re in the same city. He should know that I’ll drive myself insane worrying about him. I can’t even imagine anything happening to the man I love, Twiggy.”
“Don't be worryin’ now, Bonnie. He'll be in touch, ye'll see."
“Okay,” I say, trying not to cry. Twiggy fixes some sandwiches and forces me to swallow a few bites, then I take another anti-nausea pill.
"What about yer da? There's got to be some law against the doings in that Sect,” Twiggy says, changing the subject. “Might not be against law the pure muck they're peddlin’ to people, but I'd wager since they're up to dodgy dealings with offshore accounts and sneaky trips abroad, there's likely a bit of financial fraud in there.”
“Financial fraud? I’d say a definite yes. Twiggy, people sold houses and cars to live in shacks. And the Sect never invests in capital projects or charity. Well, except for clothing giveaways. So, where’s all that money taken off the pious members going to? It’s lining the pockets of a select few, which my father happens to be a part of. By choice.”
“And if that's the case, and we bring it to light, ye know the craic, yeah?" Twiggy asks with a soft tone.
“Imprisonment.Ifthey’re found guilty on those charges.”
“Can ye handle that, love?”