Forever Yours

Chapter Thirty Seven

Regina Swan-Mills

I watch as Emma slowly pulls out of the driveway while I produce a corky wave goodbye. My wife smiles brightly, showing off her cheeky grin that does certain things to my heart, before she drives away. I sigh as I walk to my mother's car, knowing she has been eyeballing me the whole time and now I have to face this woman alone. How, after all these years, does she believe now is an appropriate time to barge her way back into my life?

My mother steps out of her overly expensive vehicle, that screams, 'Look at me! Look how much money I have'. She doesn't bother walking any closer as she just lingers in the doorway, expecting me to come to her.

"Now that you are done making a scene, are you ready to have a proper discussion?" Her words are ice cold, sending a chill down my spine.

I hate how she still intimidates me after all these years...

"Well I hope you enjoyed the show mother. I have a class and if you wish to speak with me, you can return this evening. We can have a proper conversation including Emma," I explain formally because old habits die hard. Even after all these years my mind is still trained to speak properly for my mother.

"Oh, come now dear, there's no reason to have your blonde toy around when we speak."

I grit my teeth as a hot burning burst of anger rages through my blood. After all this time, my so-called mother is still doing her best to degrade me. I know whatever jab she can stick into a conversation, she will stab away.

"First of all, she is my wife!" I seethe, "second of all, insult Emma again and I will never speak to you ever again, that's a promise." My mother chuckles as she waves off my threat.

"Calm down Regina, stop being so melodramatic. I will see you this evening at seven sharp," she commands as she spins around effortlessly and completely unaware or maybe just unaffected by the anger radiating off of me.

"I mean it mother, don't step foot in my house tonight if you plan on insulting Emma or Henry!" I warn as I turn on my heel and hop into my car as if I have somewhere to be.

My hands shake violently as I start my engine. My mind races with too many disturbing thoughts of how everything and anything could go wrong tonight. I peel out of my driveway, screeching my tires against the pavement below. I drive off in such a rush with murderous thoughts on my mind, I hardly recognize the drive out of my subdivision.

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The water gushes from the sink as I rinse the last of our plates from dinner. My nerves are shot at this point from spending the entire day worrying about what's to come with my mother's visit. While cooking dinner, while eating my meal and even now, cleaning the dishes, I feel lost and only functioning because the autopilot button switched on in my head.

My wife is dragging a large spoon through the Rocky Road container while our son waits patiently at the kitchen island. Henry's practically licking his chops staring at his other mother preparing his dessert. Rocky Road has always been his favorite, just like his blonde mother.

"Is that enough?" Emma innocently asks as she displays the bowl, with only half a spoon full. The amount is not even deemed worthy enough to call a bite.

"Mom," Henry whines her name with big puppy dog eyes in hopes she will take pity on him.

"Mommy's pregnant, I need the rest for myself," Emma enthusiastically defends her actions before she pops a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. My wife slowly drags the spoon against her velvety tongue in the most teasing manner.