She was a tough one. Her father was a doctor, and he’d been killed recently or something, and Svetlana refused to ever discuss it. Not that Morgan minded; if anything he preferred that they keep their relationship as uncomplicated as possible.
The sex was freaking mind-blowing, and damned if he didn’t miss that the most. And now that he could treat her again like he did in the old days (well, at least he was getting there), he felt that sizzle, that confidence that had been robbed from him all coming back.
He dialed the number and held it to his ear, praying that she wasn’t somewhere without service or, God help him, with another man. If she was, Morgan might just have to kill him.
“Who is this?” the female voice said on the other end.
It wasn’t said with any sort of real curiosity, but with anger because she knew exactly who was calling.
“It’s me, babe,” Morgan said. “What are you doing right now?”
“What am I doing?” she said. God, he loved that accent. “I am sitting on my ass because my worthless friend Sabina decided to go on a date with some lawyer.
So I was about to open a bottle of wine when you called.
Why the hell are you calling, Morgan?”
“What are you wearing?” he said.
“What am I wearing? What the hell is wrong with you? Why does that matter?”
“Because I want you to pick out your hottest outfit right this minute, put it on and meet me at the Kitten Club in half an hour.”
“And why would I do that?” she asked, her hesitancy melting.
“Because I’m back, sweetheart, and I’m going to get us both wasted and then I’m going to make you thank
God you were born a woman.”
“Morgan?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
34
She didn’t remember the drive taking this long. Maybe because last time, time was of the essence. Or maybe last time there was an excitement about seeing her daughter for the first time in months.
As the yellow lines sped past in a blur, as the trees on
I-95 merged into one long emerald line, Paulina thought about those days nearly twenty years ago when she first held Abigail in her arms. She was so tiny, so fragile, and
Paulina remembered breast-feeding her, thinking that this small person was dependent on her for love, for life. And though she’d never wanted that feeling to die, it had done just that a long time ago.
Paulina had never wanted to be one of those corporate mothers who took a week off for maternity leave, was back in the office like nothing had ever happened while her child was raised and cared for by nannies with calloused hands and heaving bosoms. She never wanted her daughter to grow up hearing somebody else’s voice read her bedtime stories, never wanted her daughter to feel the same sense of loneliness that Paulina had as a little girl.
Abby would be her daughter forever, and she would not let her daughter grow up without a true mother.
Of course, life didn’t work out that way. As soon as they wanted her to take on bigger stories, she jumped at the chance. Paulina told herself that it was only for a short period of time, that she would make money and make a name for herself so that when she finally stepped back from the job, she would have created a better life for Abigail.
But Paulina never stepped back.
The stories got bigger and bigger, and the chase became intoxicating. And when her name didn’t grow at the pace she wanted it to, she left the Gazette and took a job at their rival. And now, finally, after so long in the trenches of this industry, Paulina was a name, a brand, making the kind of money that she always hoped to.
Some people said newspapers were a dying industry, but if you wrote what people wanted to read, they’d never bury you. There was always a medium.
And then one day, Paulina looked back and realized that Abby was gone. A grown woman, a college student, with her own hopes and dreams and desires and loves.
And Paulina had not been there for any of it.
Which is why this drive felt like the longest hours of
Paulina’s life. Because just as she’d reentered Abby’s life the other day, today she was going to pull the shade over a part of Abigail’s life that Paulina had been too busy to realize had even felt sunshine.
She arrived at the dorm as the sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange hue over the treetops and green grass.
The red brick of the dorms looked radiant in the glow, and for a moment Paulina had to stand and watch them.
Then as shadows began to creep across the grounds,
Paulina locked the car door and prepared herself.
She walked up to the front door and dialed Abby’s cell.
She had no idea what her daughter’s schedule was, whether she had evening class, what time she went to dinner, if she had plans to see a movie tonight.
It didn’t matter. She’d wait at the door all night if she had to.
Fortunately Abby picked up right away.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hey, Abby, it’s your mother.”
“Oh, hey, Mom.” Abby laughed and continued. “You know when you said you’d try to call more I didn’t think you meant it.”
“Oh, I meant it,” Paulina said. “In fact, would you mind buzzing me in? I’m downstairs.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m downstairs. In front of your dorm.”
“Why are you…”
“Just let me in, it’s important.”
“All right, fine, hold on a second.”
The buzzer rang, and Paulina entered. She made her way to Abby’s dorm room and knocked on the door.
Abigail answered, wearing a green tank top and shorts.
A bowl of popcorn was on the coffee table and the television was on. The menu of a DVD was on the screen.
And sitting on the couch was Pam Ruffalo.
Her brown hair was done up in a ponytail, and she was wearing socks without shoes. Her legs were crossed underneath her on the couch. She munched popcorn, then swallowed it when she saw Paulina standing there.
She coughed out a kernel and said, “Hi, Ms. Cole.”
Paulina looked at her. Her eyes widened, and she turned to her daughter, pleading.
“We need to talk alone.”
“You don’t even say hello back, Mom?”
“Hi, Pam. Can you ask her to give us a few minutes?”
“Why? What the hell is going on now?”
“Please, Abby, don’t ask me to…”
“You asked Pam to leave the first time you came here,”
Abigail said, “and I agreed. I don’t answer to you and I never have, so whatever you say to me you can say to her.”
“Abby, she really shouldn’t…”
“Mom, I love her. She has a right to know whatever you have to say to me.”
Paulina stepped back, her breath caught in her throat for a moment. She looked over at Pamela, a massive grin on the young girl’s face at that statement. Abby had a look of pride, both at her love for this girl and her confidence in telling her mother off.
“Fine, Abby, if you want to do this by your rules, so be it. But remember I asked for privacy.”
“I’ll remember to tell that to the judge,” Abby said.
Pam laughed. Paulina had to struggle not to shoot the girl a dirty look.
And then she looked at her daughter, her young, beautiful vibrant daughter, who might never speak to her again after today.
“I found out more about that…issue I talked to you about the other day.”
Abigail placed her hand against the door frame. It was clear she’d tried to put it out of her mind, and from the change in her stance it looked like she’d succeeded until now.
“What did you find out?” Abby asked, almost perfunctorily.
Paulina looked at Pam again, then back at her daughter.
“Last chance,” she said.
“Spill it, Mom.”
“Okay then. I had some friends look into the photo and the album it came from. Did you know Pam here had a blog?”
Abigail smiled, turned to her girlfriend. “Of course I did. She showed me every posting before it went up.”