Love Is Louder (10 page)

“Thanks.”

Having trouble doesn’t begin to describe what I’m dealing with. Hell no. I need to be more careful. Otherwise, I could lose everything I’ve worked for all these years. The last thing I want is the Fleming name involved in some scandal. This isn’t an option. It never was and never will be. Damage control. Mother made sure of that when I was a kid, so now, I hate to say it, but I may need to rip a page out of Mother’s book.

An hour later after the meeting wraps up, I decide to leave the office an hour early. I have to get away from Lisa before I actually shove her into my office, rip every piece of damn expensive fabric off her sinful body, and slam her against the wall. She’s making things too easy and excruciatingly complicated simultaneously.

My hands are sweating as I grip the steering wheel, and my heart thrums in my chest thinking about all the things Lisa would allow me to do to her. She won’t say no to me. That is more than crystal clear.

Out of frustration, I slam the breaks at the red light, grab my cell from my jacket, and slowly dial my mother’s number, deciding at the last minute to pay her a visit. I can’t go home to Brie like this. I listen to the phone ring, committing myself to the fact I’m running away and acting like a coward, but I won’t change a damn thing about how I handle things. I do have moments where I hate the person I’ve become, like right now.

Mother answers on the first ring. I let her know I’ll be over in ten minutes. I press the gas on the Range Rover when the light turns green, listening as she asks if Brie is coming along. Dissatisfaction drips like acid from her every word, burning a hole in my heart. I reply with a no and hang up, throwing the phone onto the passenger seat.

Is this how it’s always going to be? Will my mother ever stop trying to meddle in my life and just be happy for me?

The way my mother approaches the women that have come and gone in my life is one aspect of her personality I despise. Perhaps she doesn’t want me to end up with someone like her, whose entire existence hinges on my father and what he’s accomplished and created. She doesn’t have goals or interests of her own, so she’s focused her attention on my life and career, as well as my father’s career at Fleming Financial.

Behind all the façade of opulence and privilege, I see someone vulnerable. I worry about her more than I should, and I think that’s my main reason for this visit. I will always love my mother, even if I don’t agree with her on
a lot
of things.

Ten minutes later, I turn onto the large street I grew up on in the more affluent part of Massapequa Park. I tamp down the emotions when the brick pretense of my childhood home comes into view, bringing back so many memories.

I pull up the endless cobblestone driveway and stare up at what used to be my bedroom window where I spent many nights studying and many nights sneaking out. I laugh at the memories. Being a teenager has been the best part of my life thus far. If I could have chosen, I would have postponed that time for a little while longer.

The smell of freshly cut grass saturates the air as the landscapers manicure the acres of lawn surrounding the house. Squinting against the sun’s glare, I step out of my SUV, walk up the broad granite steps, and open the door without knocking and step inside.

Glistening white marble floors, cream walls adorned with expensive paintings and an extravagant crystal chandelier that shimmers in the sunlight remind me of my upbringing and all the advantages money brings.

“Mother,” I call out as my eyes drift up the spiraling staircase that leads to the second floor of their sprawling fifteen-room mansion. There’s no reply, so I cast my eyes across the open foyer and into the equally expansive sitting room filled with photos and memories of my life. My parents lived vicariously through me for most of my life. Sadly to say, my mother still does.

From the mantel of the fireplace, I pick up a family photo from when I graduated from Harvard Law a little over five years ago. A picture without Brie, whom I was engaged to at the time. A picture that Brie agreed to take after my mother demanded a photo be taken of just the three of us. It started with my mother as soon as I slipped the three-carat diamond ring onto Brie’s finger.

“How is my handsome successful son?” My mother’s familiar voice crawls up my back, catching me off guard. Turning, I meet her adoring blue eyes, and for a moment, my frustration vanishes. Feigning contentment, I smile broadly and take her in. She is a natural beauty and has aged well over the years, avoiding the sun and never missing her weekly facial appointments and proud of the fact she’s never gone under the knife. She’s in her late fifties, shapely and toned, and dressed in a navy skirt and white silk blouse with her black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She’s holding a glass of red wine, the one accessory she can’t live without.

“I could be better.”

Replying with that answer is a big mistake on my part, as my mother’s eyebrows shoot up. She’s going to want to know the reasons behind my bad mood. Knowing Mother, she thinks it has something to do with Brie upsetting me and not meeting her unattainable standards.

She strides across the room with a hard expression, her lips tight and her eyes icy. When she catches the reluctance in my eyes, her eyes soften, and a sincere smile forms on her thin red lips. Coming here was a bad idea, but I honestly miss her and a part of me wishes she’d change her attitude about certain people. Life is too short for this kind of shit.

I blow the air from my lungs in an attempt to gather myself to deal with her as I lean down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Is it her?” she asks. She gives me a long, appraising look, the one that sharpens into advice.

I’m not even going to entertain this with her. Brie or my marriage is not a topic of conversation.

“Will you ever truly be satisfied with anything, Mother?” I mutter in consternation. “It’s work.”

“Honey, I want the best…”

“Do you? Not just with my career...
everything
.” I can’t talk to her about what is going on or what I’m feeling. It’s a bad idea, so I skillfully spin the conversation to focus on her favorite subjects—herself and her social calendar. She lights up, taking a dainty sip of wine as she takes a seat on the plush caramel-tinted sofa. She places the glass onto the coffee table as I collapse onto the comfortable brown leather wingback, resting my ankle on my knee.

For the next twenty minutes, she goes into detail about her day and her upcoming weekend engagements with Dad, who is away on business for the next two days in Boston closing on another bank merger.

I almost feel sorry for her. She’s isolated herself, letting all the trivial and material things rule her world. One thing remains, though. She wants nothing but the best for me. I hope she can step back. I’ve wished that ever since I went off to college. She can show so much love to my father and me, but then transform into a scornful woman when anyone from the outside infiltrates her realm, especially another woman.

“How are you and Dad doing?” I venture, peaking at my Rolex. It’s almost five, and Brie is going to be home soon. I need her tonight. I need my wife to be available and ready for me.

“We’re great, honey, as always,” she answers. A shadow flickers across her delicate features as she takes another sip of wine. “You look tired.” She regroups as she sets down her glass with a shaky hand.”Is it Brie? Is she not doing enough?”

“Dammit, Mother,” I bark in a low voice as I rise from the chair. “I’m just tired from work. Tired of you doubting my choices. Be happy for me, just once.”

She pales somewhat and actually looks hurt by my outburst. “I am, honey.” She stands from the sofa and approaches me, resting her graceful hand on my arm when the doorbell rings. “I want you to be taken care of.”

“I’m fine. Everything’s great,” I acknowledge as I shoot my gaze toward the front door.

Perfect timing.

“I wish you would visit more often. I do worry about you,” she pleads. Leaning forward, she cups my cheek. I make a conscious effort not to flinch at her touch.

“Being the district attorney is not a cakewalk. It’s work, a lot of hard work.”

“Yes, I know. You have a reputation to uphold,” she states matter-of-factly.

Suppressing my resentment, I kiss her on the cheek and step past her to leave.

“I’m very aware of that.” I sense a major headache coming on. “I have to go.”

“Okay, honey. I’m glad you stopped by.”

A heavy pause lingers in the air as I start walking backwards toward the door.

“Me, too. Bye.” Turning, I hurry down the hollow hallway, throw open the door, greet the attractive young brunette standing in my way, and brush past her like a strong gust of wind to get to my SUV. Frustrated beyond belief, I lean back against the hood and close my eyes in an effort to unwind. I’d try anything or do anything to relax right now.

Will Mother ever truly ask about me and how I feel, or how I did all of this to make them proud so that she can brag to her friends?

Dad funded my education, but Mother likes to take the credit for that, too. I’ll pay back every damn penny just so I don’t have to hear it anymore. Maybe then she’ll finally leave my life alone and allow me to live my life the way I want to without her overbearing and annoying attempts to influence my decisions.

My cell phone buzzes as I get into my vehicle and slam the door. Grabbing it from pocket, I flinch when I see Lisa’s name light up the screen. I’m so tempted, but I ignore it. I don’t usually, but tonight I do. I have to go home at a decent time; I have to make an effort to be a husband.

Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the empty driveway, park, and draw in a deep breath, wondering where Brie is. Yoga possibly, her new release, but I need mine now, and I need her to be the one to give it to me. She used to come straight home when I did. Now, she has her own life outside of work and this home, separate from me. I expected that, but now that I’m trying to be the husband I should be, I don’t want to share.

My cell phone rings from my seat. I glance at the number.

Lisa again
.

My heart skips in my chest. Loosening my tie, I sink down into the leather seat, debating whether or not to pick up. I wish I had a drink right now to slow down the demolition process going on in my mind. I peek at the time on the dash. It’s just a little past five. This can be something work-related, so I pick up.

“James,” she breathes my name when I answer, her voice alluring, causing my body to stir. Shaking my head, I ignore the effect her voice has on me and answer.

“Lisa.” My voice cracks on her name. I need to get a handle on my fucking nerves. “Is there a problem at the office?”

“No, just a bunch of us from the office are going out for dinner and drinks again to discuss some cases that we weren’t able to go over during this morning’s meeting.” I hear a note of anticipation in her voice. “I was just calling to invite you.”

I blink and take in some warm summer air that passes through my SUV. I shouldn’t go. I should wait for Brie like she waits for me. Swim some laps in the pool and have a couple of beers alone. “Do you really need me there?” I glance up at the empty house, ready to take my keys and briefcase and head inside.

“You’re the DA. Nothing goes unless we get your stamp of approval. It won’t take long. A couple of hours at the most.”

I check the time again. Five minutes have passed. If I decide to go out, I’ll need to bypass the Bull and Bear. I look back at my house and then at the time once more. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel with my sweaty palm, trying to keep my scattered thoughts on track. My brain never stops these days with so much on the line with my job.

“James...are you still there?”

“Yes, where did you plan on going?”

“Pascal’s. Some of the staff is already there.”

This place is not much better. I was just there celebrating my wedding anniversary with Brie and low and behold I ran into Mason. My luck can’t be that bad that he’d show up there again.

“Okay. I can go for a couple of drinks right about now.”

“Great. I’m still at the office. Do you mind swinging by to pick me up?”

She’s good at this kind of thing, and I’m playing into her hand. Nobody intimidates me, especially not some female who works under me.

I shake off the worry and answer like the fucking self-assured confident DA I am. “Sure. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Perfect. See you soon.”

I hang up and run my hand over my face. “Couple of drinks over work…nothing more.”

What’s the harm in that?