The Carrero Effect Trilogy

Chapter 26

Gazing up at the crappy brown building that houses "The Haven" homeless shelter, an internal wave of anxiety builds up inside me, like an all-consuming black hole, now that I'm faced with old memories. Jake is standing behind me with hands on my shoulders, and a kiss on my neck brings me back to the present.

"Call me, and I'll come, okay?" His voice is a reminder that I can do this. I can be strong enough because of him.

"I know. Now leave before I change my mind about going to the hotel first." I giggle as his hand skims my ass; he's a tempting distraction to what I know I need to do.

"If I'd known you were this torn about it, I would've applied a little more pressure." He smirks wickedly, letting his hand trail lower under my dress. I laugh and shove him off playfully with my butt, which only serves to cheer him on because he pushes his hand further between my legs, and I fight the scalding surge of heat it causes.

For the love of God. Stay focused.

"Go! There's plenty of time for that later, a lot of that." I smile as he holds up his hands in defeat.

"I'm holding you to that, baby." He smacks my ass and turns back to the car, winking and waving as he slides in effortlessly. I stand watching him and sigh, a chaos of emotions churning up at the loss of his touch. He waits by the sidewalk until I swallow down the inner dread; when it passes, I turn with a wave and head inside.

Jake won't wander far, probably a nearby café or something within walking distance so he can get back to me in a hurry. Knowing he's close helps. Knowing I can call him and he'll be right here gives me strength. It gives me the peace that I desperately need. The man is too much for my heart to handle sometimes, but I wouldn't have him any other way.

I swallow down everything building up inside of me and push through the doors into the main foyer of the building; it's a lot nicer than the last time I stepped in here, and I remember my mother talking about refurbishments to this place the last time I saw her. It's airy and light but cozy and welcoming. I spot the familiar receptionist, Claire. Even after all these years, she looks the same but surprised to see me and beams at my entrance.

"Hello, Emma! Well, look at you! God, you look great. The vision of happiness with your glowing face and hair is adorable." I smile warmly, my composure slipping when faced with people from my past. The urge to lift my chin and force out those cold mannerisms and icy tone almost overwhelms me, but I don't. That instant compulsion died a while back in the glory of Jake's presence, and I won't slide into an old habit to deal with my discomfort around this poor woman.

"Hey. Thank you. I was wondering if my mother was here and if I could maybe go surprise her?" I take her in with a genuine smile hiding my inner waves of fear. My palms are already clamming up, and I can't ignore the faster thumping of my heart now I'm in here.

"You're in luck. She's in her office today doing the accounts. She'll be alone too, I imagine, holed up with her head in the books." She pats my shoulder gently and smiles. "Just go on up. She'll be so happy to see you."

Doubtful.

I smile gratefully at her before heading toward the far-right corner staircase, thanking Claire as I go, by-passing a couple of undesirable-looking teens loitering nearby, eyeing me up.

Wonderful.

I swerve around a little older woman, with a huge sense of sadness for her, as she drags carrier bags behind her containing all her worldly possessions.

I skip up the steps, two at a time, in a bid to get this over and done with before I lose my courage, then turn a corner to come face-to-face with the old familiar corridor leading to her office. The same pale cream walls and red carpet, no refurbishments up here to keep my memories at bay. Her pine office door is chipped and scraped, but her name is executively etched onto a brass sign screwed outside, looking so out of place against the old entrance.

I stand outside, fixing my hair, smoothing down my pink sundress, and take a deep calming breath before I steady myself to bring a sense of calm to my demeanor. I picture Jake's soft, caring face and breathe deeply, seeing him clearly, imagining him beside me with an encouraging hand in mine, a genuine smile lifting at the corners of my mouth.

I can do this.

I don't knock or hesitate to reach out. I turn the handle and walk in like it's the most natural thing in the world for me to do.

She's sat at her desk, glasses perched on the end of her nose and face inclined toward the papers she's looking at. Her tousled wavy hair, the same color as mine, is falling over her face. She looks up, hearing the door creak open, and I catch a moment of shock gape across her mouth as it quickly turns into a warm smile, a little wary but still warm, making my stomach ache. Doubt creeps in and makes this instantly harder. My mother is always capable of showing affection when she knows it's appropriate, but even now, I can't decipher whether it's genuine.

"Emma?" She stands and smiles, rolling a pen between her hands, elbows bent in front of her. We still, for a moment, neither is the type to initiate any sort of touching with the other.

"This is a lovely surprise." She gestures pointedly with her pen for me to sit down. "Please, have a seat." Her voice is steady, with no hint of anything other than minor surprise at my appearance.

"Mother." I swallow hard and move slowly, closing the door behind me to give us some privacy, deciding not to sit down, knowing I won't be here long enough to get 'comfortable' - if that's even the definition of this situation. I'm glad we're here and not at the apartment; this is easier, detached, and business-like, with a desk separating us and making me feel more capable. This is a place I rarely visited as a teen, so there aren't many lingering memories or heart-breaking thoughts here to distract me.

"I wasn't sure I'd ever see you back here after the way you both left last time …" She raises a brow with a hint of attitude, and I bristle. She's clearly still angry about my behavior and accusations, no doubt irritated that Jake saw that side of her. This is the reaction I've been expecting, though, no hint of her own wrongdoing, just highlighting her disappointment in me and noting my failures according to her. Again.

You know her, Emma. This is what she's like, don't take the bait.

She wants an apology, wants me to admit I behaved badly, like always, and because I'm not playing her game, she's not giving me anything in return. She's turned on her cool demeanor and closed-off persona, a sight I've seen many times, withdrawing any form of affection, like she always did when I was a child. She's freezing me out, except this time, it's not because I've upset one of her lovers. It's just because I'm here, and she didn't know I was coming. She can't pretend with me this way.

Right now, she wants to punish me for daring to turn the finger back on her about my childhood. My mother is narcissistic, clear to me like a flash of light as I take in her familiar pose and expression, deadpan blankness.

"Actually, I'm here to tell you my news." I push down the chaotic feelings threatening to override my courage. A wave of nausea washes over me, tadpole's instincts at knowing something is wrong with me. I nod toward the chair in front of her desk, looking for permission to sit despite already having it. She frowns at me, annoyed by my ignorance of her request before, yet obliges and nods toward the chair opposite her desk with an exasperated look. I scold myself for my childish questioning to sit; PA Emma would've never sought her permission. An adult should be able to sit without needing consent, but she has a way of making me feel like a child all over again.

"Please." She sits back, removing her glasses and laying her palms on the table across one another. I cannot help but watch her stiff upright posture, careful mannerisms, and sigh. Jake is right, I used to behave exactly like her, but I didn't see it; every movement, carefully placed, always aware of her grace and gestures, cool and coldly poised. I look down at my hands, casually laid in my lap, and my sagging posture and smile. I'm sitting how Jake would sit, loose and relaxed, with no thought to how I'm perceived, and I can't help but feel his warmth run across me as though he's here with me, encouraging me even in his absence.

"Jake asked me to marry him." I smile at her, shining with inner joy at his face in my mind, thinking back to the night when he asked me to be his forever.

God, I love him so much.

She sits for a moment, and I scrutinize her every expression, a hint of surprise followed by a look of disappointment, and then a fake smile is plastered on to hide it all. Her façade is disrupted only momentarily, and then she's back in full control.

Why am I not surprised that she doesn't want me to be happy? She never has. She doesn't care if it's not something for her benefit.

"Congratulations. I'm assuming the wedding will be in New York?" She can't look me in the eye, but there's a new tone to her voice, a slight edge, and for the first time, I click to what it is. I've been completely oblivious before today, but now there's a bright, shining magnifying light forced over her for me to peer through.

She's jealous!! She is jealous of her own freaking child finding happiness. Her child finding love. What kind of mother is that?!

"There's more." I sit up straighter, old anger rising at her response to her only child getting married, Inner-Teen-Emma making a grand appearance, the girl pushed down repeatedly by the woman before her.

She hasn't even asked me if he makes me happy or how much I love him. She has never acknowledged my relationship with him before, so it's no surprise that she wouldn't now.

"Let me guess … You've quit work to live the life of a billionaire's trophy wife? I'm so proud." She stares at me blankly, and I start stiffening. She isn't good at hiding her envy now since we're getting into it, forgetting herself and her outward demeanor because we have no audience. Hence needing to do this alone, for this persona right here. The woman who used to tower over me in passive emptiness when her boyfriend was upset or when one left because of me.

Breathe, don't let her get to you.

"No, actually, I'm currently looking toward a new career. One more fulfilling in which I can help children who have been abused like I was." I lift my chin proudly, meeting her eye, ready to take on her response in a non-emotional way. I am at peace with how I am going to handle this.

Her eyes glaze over, and her eyebrow rises as she sighs, acting as though 'little girl Emma' is at it again, being over-dramatic, making herself out to be the poor defenseless, innocent child.

She is no mother of mine. I can see it now. I'll never call her my mom again; she's never been deserving of the title. In the short time Sylvana has known me, she's been more of a mom to me than Jocelyn ever was.

She's pondering over how to respond, no doubt bringing memories of our last meeting fresh to her mind, afraid that raging and violent Emma may strop out again. That tiny trigger of annoyance builds higher at her silent pause.

Hold your temper, Emma. She's not worth this. I swallow it down; just say the words and get it over and done with.

"Oh," she finally says, sounding disinterested, with no reaction to what I said, as though she's already internally decided to dismiss it.

I used to stupidly think my achievements would make her proud, that if I did something worthwhile with my life somehow, she'd love me. I ran to New York to be free of her, but I spent years allowing her in, still trying to please her from afar. Excelling in my work and trying to show her I was worthy. I did expect some reaction about my chosen path or why, but I was wrong. So very wrong. It's not me who has to prove my worth anymore, it's her, and honestly … She's not worthy of my love, affection, or time.

"We're having a baby," I state flatly, not expecting the same response that Jake and I received from Sylvana. "You're going to be a grandmother," I add rather pointedly, to make a statement, to get everything out that I want her to know. I've lost all will to be here since this is going exactly how I should've known it would. She is too emotionally exhausting, and I don't need to stay and take it anymore.

A wave of love sweeps over me when I say it out loud, noticing how my smile comes out despite my irritation at her. It spreads across my face without any help from me, tadpole bringing me a sense of serenity from within. My hand instantly moves to cover my stomach gently. Feeling its presence here with me gives me so much more strength. I focus on this tiny joy of my life and gain the strength I need to finish this, letting it flood through me.

"I see." She glances at me and then back at her desk, and my smile fades.

Has she never felt the love for me that I now have for Tadpole?

Is it something she's ever possessed for me?

"Is that all you have to say to me?" I ask dejectedly, suddenly tired. The bubbling anger seems to have given up on me, and I find myself sighing instead. I can't do this with her anymore. I don't have the emotional energy to go through this scenario repeatedly.

How often have I built myself up for anything from her and always come face-to-face with this reality? This deflating reality … This nothingness.

"Well, a baby isn't something I ever thought you wanted. You've never been very maternal or shown any interest in children. It's no picnic being a mother, Emma. I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for." Her tone, one of seriousness, edged with ice. I blink at her in dumbfounded silence, my heart aching, "Is it because of the baby that he proposed?" She asks as an afterthought with a smug expression.

"You never wanted me did you, Jocelyn?" I blurt out, more as a realization than an accusation, and she at least has the decency to let her composure falter, especially at my use of her first name. I don't feel anything about it now that I see it, not a single drop of pain over the fact that she never wanted motherhood or the clinging arms of a child. All those years of keeping me at arms-length, no affection, no warmth, and no protection, all coming together in clear clarity at last.

"I didn't not want you, Emma. I just didn't plan on ever having a baby. I wasn't suited for motherhood but made the most of it." There's no apology in her tone, no trying to soothe my feelings or gently deliver an answer, but there has never been. She looks down at her desk, moving a couple of files, avoiding my gaze.

There are so many things I could say and accusations I could throw at her, but they evade me. Instead, there's nothing but pity and a little sadness. All the fight and will to somehow make her see how she's scarred my life is gone. I have nothing, no inner need to do this and no fight left to push this anymore. With a vague sadness, I realize I don't care anymore.

I sigh and sit up, looking at her fully, willing eye contact.

"You're broken, Jocelyn. Something inside of you doesn't work and maybe never did. I'm sure there's a reason that you're built this way and why you're drawn to men that hurt you. Maybe some of your past is so bad, like mine, you'll never be able to tell me, or maybe you can't be a mother of any kind … But I'm done." I shake my head sadly, aware that she isn't responding to me.

I stand slowly, my heart aching but no longer ripping in two, a pain that is bearable and will fade in time. She watches me with her large wide eyes and says nothing, no emotion, no protest; just looks at me … emptily. The same way she always used to, yet it doesn't feel the same way this time.

"You're incapable of being what I need, and I've spent enough of my life trying to get you to love me. That's not a child's job … That should've never been my burden. Maybe you do love me in your own way, but it's not enough. I want my child to know love the way it's supposed to be, and I could never inflict your sort of indifference and inability to nurture on my baby." I move my chair back, gathering my composure. "I'm walking away, Jocelyn. I'm saying goodbye to the pain you've always inflicted on my heart and the way you always made me feel like everything bad that happened in my life was my fault. Jake showed me how wrong that was." I give her a moment to do or say anything, but I already know it won't happen. She is sitting still and straight with that icy wall up and a blank expression on her face.

"I love you, and you'll always be in my heart, but I don't need or want you in my life anymore. I want this between us to end right here. So, if you have anything to say to me, then do it now." I feel braver. My trembling hands and the aching pain inside me are a sign that I care and always cared, and I can accept that. Because I do know how to love, nurture and protect, and I'm never going to let myself be ashamed of knowing how. I am worthy of having a heart and giving a piece of it to those I love, but she doesn't deserve my love anymore. She doesn't deserve me in her life, and she hasn't asked about my wedding or even congratulated me on the baby says it all. I was never her focus in life, never any part of her world where it mattered.

"I hope you'll be very happy in your new life." Her emotionless, cold words seal her fate. Even if she knew any kind of warmth, she would've never allowed herself to show it. No emotion, no tears, and no attempt to try to change my mind. She and my father are alike in so many ways. They used what they could from me until I was of no value anymore and then left me to find my way on my own; at least he'd been more honest about it.

I was always the one to care for her, protect her, and love her unconditionally, even before I was old enough to understand what she was taking from me. I gave my childhood away to please a woman who gave me nothing in return.

"I know I will be … I'm sorry." I turn to leave before I cry because I know I'm going to, and that's okay too. I'll grieve for a mother I never had and make a space in my heart for a mother already working her way around it, accepting the woman I am without any expectations. Mamma Carrero will give me what I've always yearned for, and I'll give her a grandchild I know she will smother in real love. Jocelyn Anderson is the only one losing anything, and she doesn't even care.

"I hope you find happiness, Mom. I hope you find your Jake because God knows you need him just as much as I did. Everything that happened, everything I endured, none of it was my fault. I know it without a shadow of a doubt, but I don't need you to acknowledge it anymore because I see it for myself and accept it. I own my past because it brought me here to him…. I forgive you." I smile sadly, the wave of tears rolling down my cheeks.

She swallows hard, a tiny break in her wall, a flicker of something as she watches me, but it's only a small drop of raw emotion in an ocean full of false affection. It's the only reaction I'll ever see. But it's not enough, and it's far beyond too late now.

"Goodbye," I whisper, letting the tears fall, letting it hurt because this is what I need to do to let her go. I turn and leave and don't look back. I don't stop, and I don't feel regret. And she doesn't stop me.

My heart aches, and I know I'll probably grieve for her at some point, maybe sooner than later, but I need to do this for my happiness and my future with Jake. I need to do this for a child who will look to me to learn what love is, and I am doing this to make sure they'll never know anything but real devotion and a real mother who would die for them. A family who will shelter and protect them every step of the way.

I'm lighter, walking down the stairs to the main hall, like a part of me has sprung wings and flown away. I feel like I've let something go, despite the tears streaming down my face and the ache in my heart.

Claire raises her head, acknowledging my return to the foyer at the bottom of the stairs, with a confused look at my emotional demeanor.

"Hi again, Emma," Claire blanches, concern etched on her face. There's no reason to explain anything to her. She wouldn't understand it anyway. I'm not the only one my mother puts false walls up against, pretending everything is okay when it isn't. I look at her and smile weakly.

"Pregnancy hormones," I reply with a light smile, gently grazing the top of my small bump, highlighted by the sundress I decided to wear today. Claire's face suddenly beams with happiness.

"Oh! Congratulations, Emma!!" She swivels off her chair around her desk and comes to give me a small hug; I reciprocate. She's not my mother, and having a little tadpole seems to soften my heart long enough to let Claire embrace me.

"I thought there was a certain look about you!" She smiles, pulling out of the hug to look at me. "You look absolutely radiant. Motherhood obviously agrees with you already." I can't help but smile. She has more joy for my announcement than my own blood.

"Thank you, Claire." She goes to sit back down but turns to face me as I head toward the door and my freedom from this place and my mother.

"We'll see you soon then, Emma!" She calls out. I stare blankly at her, not daring to correct her assumption, and wave.

"Goodbye, Claire." I smile faintly.

I push the door open with one hand and pull out my phone with a heavy sigh, slowly inhaling as I inhale fresh air.

I'm okay. I really am okay.

I text Jake, asking him where he is, letting him know I'll come to him. I need the air and the walk. I need the time to myself to let all that happened in that room sink in. I want to walk to him smiling, to show him that I'm much stronger than I ever have been.

She never fought for me and told me she loved me, but then she never did.

I'm not the one who is broken or unlovable. She is. Yes, I am scarred, but I'm healing, and I've finally found my way into arms I know will always be waiting for me.