Page 28 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend
“So how was school today?”
“I’m fine,” he sighed, and went to the sink and poured himself a glass of water.
“What classes did you have?” I probed further.
“I said I’m fine, Mom,” he snapped at me. And by that point, I realized that my apparently limitless reservoir of patience had dried up. I’d spent all day dealing with an unreasonable man. I wasn’t going to come home and find my son behaving the same way.
“You need to calm down and take a deep breath, young man,” I said. “Otherwise you’re going to be in trouble.”
“I don’t want to calm down,” said Kyle. “I just want to…”
He mumbled, and sat down at the kitchen table.
“What did you say?”
“I said I just don’t want to go to school tomorrow.”
“Look, Kyle.” I leaned down and put my hands on his shoulders. “I know you miss your old school and your friends. But being in a new school also has its perks. Aren’t you excited? A new place, new stuff to learn.”
“Only the middle school is full of people I don’t know, who all went to elementary school with each other.”
“Why don’t you get to know them? They can’t be that bad.”
“They’re not interested, Mom. No one is.”
“I am,” I cupped his face.
He looked up at me.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry it’s not going so well. But I need you to give this a chance.”
“What? So you can carry on working for Mr. Lucien?” muttered Kyle.
I sighed. “Believe me,” I said. “I wish I wasn’t.”
“You do?”
“I don’t like working for Mr. Lucien,” I said. “Only, I have to. I can’t find another job right now and there isn’t anything in journalism nearby.”
“So what?” said Kyle. “You don’t have to work right away.”
“I do, sweetie. This is David’s house.”
“That’s not true, Mom. It’s your house too. David said that Grandpa Derek left it to the both of you. Only you said you didn’t want it. But it’s still yours.”
My eyes widened but I didn’t say anything. Had David really been talking to him about that behind my back?
“We’ll talk about that another time,” I said. “For now, just try to give it a chance.”
*
The following morning, David had almost headed out to work when I confronted him in the kitchen. Kyle had left to get the school bus and I was on my way out. But I couldn’t help it.
“Just where the hell do you get off telling my son about what was and wasn’t left to me in the will?” I snapped.
“Hey hey hey,” said David. “Calm down, Laura. I was only answering his questions.”
“Well, when you were answering his questions,” I said, “did you think about telling him that ‘Grandpa Derek’ spent the last ten years of his life pretending I didn’t exist? If he’d ever bothered to update that damn will, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have even been in it.”