Red billows from my eyes. Fumes roll off my body. How can she do this? That’s not how mothering works, handing off a kid you don’t understand to your other kid. That’s not how family works. “Looking out for him? I raised him, Maureen. You left.”

“And it was the right choice.”

The temperature in me rises. “It was only for the best because I love him unconditionally. Because I treated him better, not because it was an acceptable thing to—”

I cut myself off. My pulse speeds too dangerously for this conversation to continue. Why bother arguing with her? It won’t change the past, and it won’t alter the future. I absolutely know why my mother left us. Because she wanted to. Because she chose to.

I can make a choice too.

I don’t have to give her an audience. I don’t have to answer her questions. “I’m leaving, Maureen.”

“Fine, fine. Be that way. But since you got yourself a rich, hot thing, can you help your momma out with some greenbacks?” She brushes her thumb and forefinger together. “I just need five thousand dollars for this new venture that Carlos and I want to start. Not too much, right? Surely, you can spare that.”

I stare at her incredulously.

This is who she is.

This is how she acts.

It shouldn’t surprise me. But it still does. Maybe it always will. But my answer will always be the same.

“No.”

“No?” She’s equally incredulous. “How can you say no?”

I scoff. “I don’t have money for you, and I certainly don’t have Flynn’s money for you. I barely have my own. I have a business meeting to go to, and I am leaving. Drive safely.”

I head inside, slamming the door behind me, my breath coming hard and fast and angry. Latent fury runs through my veins and threatens to overtake me.

But I don’t have the time for rage.

I have life to deal with.

I must refuse to let her bother me.

I tell myself to let her go, and I picture her and her boyfriend cruising along the interstate, blasting past the speed limit, getting the hell out of New York and away from me.

I bid them a silent farewell.

She is who she is, and every day I make the choice not to be my mother’s daughter.

I dry my hair, run to the subway, and soon I’m back at the building in midtown, heading inside. I do a double take when I reach the nineteenth floor.

The frames of old editions on the walls have been removed. The receptionist is gone. Most of the desks are dismantled.

Bob Galloway strides in my direction. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in days.

31

Flynn

I toss the towel into the hamper of the gym locker, grab my wallet, and slide my glasses back on. When I turn to leave, I nearly bump chests with Dale, the locker room attendant.

He flashes a toothy grin. “Hey, Flynn. I’ve been thinking about what you said, and here’s my idea.”