“No, I’ll send fucking Maria to pick her up. Confirm that Jett and I will be attending the fundraiser tonight and make sure we’re sitting with the governor. Also, get ahold of Stephen for a gown. And Emily?” Her eyes dart to mine as I walk past her to grab my phone from the dresser. “Don’t ever assume anything. I don’t change my plans simply because my daughter is flying in. I do have a business to run.” She hangs up and tosses her phone on the bed.

“Un-fucking-believable. I will fire her ass if we are not sitting at the governor’s table.” Her voice grows louder and her chest flushes.

I nod and pocket my phone, not quite sure what to make of this. “You forgot that your daughter is flying in today?”

Her eyes dart back to mine. “I’m busy. You’re not the only one who works,” she grumbles, twirling a strand of her hair. It’s an annoying habit of hers. Bugs the shit out of me. One time, I actually saw her sucking on the ends.

“How does this happen?” I demand, pushing that distasteful memory away and focusing on the fact that Rachel has not once mentioned her kid coming to visit.

“How does what happen?” she retorts and marches past me toward the bathroom.

I grab her arm. “Your daughter is coming, and you forgot to tell me? Or yourself, apparently, if that phone call is true.” Her hazel eyes narrow on mine.

“Raven and I don’t get along.” Her voice is flat. “I was hoping she was going to spend the summer with her father like she usually does. But shitty Frank has impregnated his stupid girlfriend, so yes…” She takes a breath. “It appears my daughter will be spending the next couple of months with us.”

Letting go of her arm, I frown. This is wrong on so many levels. I have great parents. My mother adores me and my brother Brett.

“Rachel, you forgot your own child? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I almost start laughing because I knew she was a cutthroat, shallow bitch, but this is… well, I’m not really sure what this is.

“Don’t judge me,” she snarls. “You don’t have kids—”

“Exactly. I don’t. For this reason. But I think I’d remember if my kid was coming home for the summer.”

“Stop.” She sighs. “Raven is… different from me. We have zero in common.” She walks toward me. Rubbing her hands up and down my dress shirt, she playfully tugs on my tie. “I did mean to tell you. I really did, but with work and the wedding…” She closes her eyes, then opens them. “This sounds bad, but I just forgot.”

I look down at her. I’m no saint, but if my mom had forgotten that I was coming home for the summer…