Chapter 21

Surprises

Three Weeks Later

Just as I started the coffee, the doorbell rang and I froze. Who the hell would come to my place at eight in the morning on a Sunday?

“Frisco!” the small voice called through the door as they laid on the doorbell.

“Mom,” I said, opening the door and ready to fall over from shock.

“Baby,” she said with one suitcase in her hand. “Surprise!”

I stared at her, thinking maybe I was still asleep. “Ma?” I asked, shaking my head to clear the sleep from my head, but she still stood there.

“It’s me.”

She hadn’t changed. It had been at least a year since I’d seen her, but she looked exactly as she had when I’d left her in California. Her black hair was pulled into a bun without a hair out of place on the sides. She was wearing a beautiful blue dress and matching heels. She still believed people should dress up when taking a plane, and she looked like she could have stepped out of an episode of Mad Men.

“What are you doing here?”

She pushed past me and almost knocked me over with her suitcase. “I missed you,” she said as she bent down and placed it on the ground. The thing was fucking huge. I didn’t know how she carried it. For such a little woman, she had more strength than many men I knew.

I closed the door and turned toward her, glancing down the hallway to see if Georgia had heard the doorbell, but luckily she hadn’t. “You could’ve called.”

“Didn’t you miss me?” she asked as she snaked her arms around my stomach and laid her head just below my chest.

I kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back as I stared at the hallway. “I’m sorry, Mom. Of course I missed you.”

“I wanted to see how you were.”

“I told you I was fine.”

“You’ve just been so busy. I had to come check on you,” she mumbled into my bare chest.

I sighed and knew what was about to come. I hadn’t told her about Georgia. Mom had never felt anyone was good enough for me in the past. She was the pickiest woman I knew, and telling her about Georgia would just cause more of a headache than keeping my lips sealed.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked and Mom’s eyes flashed up at me. “Is someone here?” she asked in a whisper.

I grimaced. “I have a guest.”

“Another one of those whores?”

“Mom.” I dropped my arms to my side. “She’s not a whore. She’s a good girl. I expect you to be nice to her.”

She shook her head and scowled at me. “What kind of girl stays the night at a man’s place when they aren’t married?”

“This is America, not China.”

Georgia peeked out from around the corner, and her eyes grew wide. “Who is that?” she mouthed.

“Mom,” I said, loud enough for her to hear, “let me get you a hotel while you’re here.”

“I’ll be fine in your guest room,” she said before kicking off her shoes and dropping two more inches. Without her heels, she verged on little-person status, barely making it to the five-foot mark.

Glancing over my mother’s head, I noticed that Georgia had disappeared. I didn’t blame her. I hadn’t told her the nicest stories about my mother, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted this to be the way I’d met her father.

“Mom,” I said when I dropped my eyes to her.

She narrowed her gaze. “I’m staying here. Your women will have to stay elsewhere.”

I started to walk toward the kitchen, taking an extra look down the deserted hallway on my way. “I don’t have women, Mom.”

She followed close on my heels and glanced down the hallway too. “You don’t have a wife either.”

“Keep your voice down,” I told her before reaching for three coffee cups.

“Why?” She went around to the other side of the kitchen island, and I could feel her eyes on me as I poured the coffee.

When I slid the cup in front of her, I confessed, “I’m going to marry this girl. Do not mess it up for me.”

She gasped and her body recoiled. “Married?” she asked and stared up at me with her mouth hanging open.

“Married.” I brought the coffee to my lips.

“Finally,” she said, collapsing into the chair and letting her arms hang down at her sides. “I thought I’d never have grandchildren.”

“Jesus,” I muttered with my lips still around the rim.

“Hello,” Georgia said when she entered the kitchen wearing a baggy T-shirt and loose-fitting sweatpants.

My mother turned, her eyes roaming over Georgia’s body. “Hello,” Mom said in the sweetest tone, shocking me for the second time today. She slid off the stool and walked toward Georgia. “Let me get a good look at you.”

Georgia looked at me like I’d save her, but I didn’t. My mother had never reacted this way to someone, and I was curious about what was about to happen.

My mother walked around her, grabbing at her sides, pinching her arms, and treating her like livestock. But I knew what she was doing. She wanted to be sure that Georgia had the right body to carry my child, her grandchildren.

“What do you do for work?” Mom asked, standing behind Georgia.

Georgia’s jaw tightened. “I’m a librarian.”

I was amused by the situation in front of me. Georgia had a mouth on her, but I knew that she wouldn’t mouth off to my mother. Plus, I knew if she did, my mom would swat her.

“A smart one.” Mom peeked around Georgia’s side and smiled at me. “Finally.”

“Finally?” Georgia asked, glancing over her shoulder at my mom.

“Those other girls were bimbos.”

Georgia laughed. “Oh.”

Mom grabbed Georgia’s hips and squeezed. “Nice.”

“What are you doing?” Georgia asked with a red face.

“Making sure you can have babies. Nice wide hips.”

“They’re not wide,” Georgia barked, swatting my mother’s hands away.

“You better hope they’re wide enough. When Frisco was born,” Mom said, turning to look at me and laugh, “he got stuck. They had to come in with big metal things and pull him out by his head.” She moved her hands like giant scissors. “I’ve never been the same since.”

“Dear God,” Georgia whispered, and the redness of her cheeks lightened. “I don’t want that.”

“It won’t happen to you. You have nice wide hips.”

“Mom,” I said, gently pulling my mom away from Georgia by the shoulders, “women don’t like to hear how wide their hips are.”

“In China—”

“Mom, drink your coffee.” I moved her little body back toward the stool.

“Jesus,” Georgia mouthed and stared at me.

I grinned even though I wanted to laugh. “How long are you staying?”

“A week,” Mom replied into her coffee cup.

I rubbed my face, trying to contain my nonexistent excitement. A fuckin’ week with my mother would feel like a month. She’d be in my shit and never leave the house without me.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t following behind.

“He’s hunting with his friends.”

“Huh,” I mumbled. Didn’t know he was into that.

“He has a new hobby. Really, he just sits his lazy ass in the woods and drinks beer.”

Georgia and I both laughed. “Nice.”

“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, turning the coffee cup in her hand.

“I don’t know,” I told her, pulling Georgia into my arms. “I didn’t really plan on getting out of bed.” I chuckled into Georgia’s hair.

My mother choked, spitting out her coffee into the cup.

Georgia’s phone rang and she walked out of the room.

“Who calls so early?”

“Who comes by so early…unannounced?”

She nodded, knowing I was right, but she didn’t give a shit.

“Hey, Mom,” Georgia said, sauntering back into the kitchen. She paused and stared at me. Taking one hand, she placed it on her face and slowly dragged it down her cheek.