Chapter 2

“Don’t you think I would have found the right man by now, especially with you introducing me to every two-legged male on the planet? How many failed attempts have you seen me through since I was eighteen? Maybe I’m meant to be a bachelor, and the only male I’ll ever have for the long haul is a pet, if I’m ever home long enough to care for one. I’m tired, Mom. Can’t you understand that?”

She fiddled with her cloth napkin, her still-lovely face devoid of wrinkles, and frowning. “I want youto be happy, Hanson. You’re my only child and you’ve never truly been in love, and I want that for you.Your father adored me, and I, him. Please don’t give up. Maybe just take a short break. I promise to be more tactful in the future.” Right.

I took a deep breath. “Promise you’ll stop asking men to date me. It doesn’t help, you know?”

“I’ve had more success at finding you men than you have, admit it,” she replied with a smirk.

I smiled reluctantly. “Nevertheless, no more meddling, yes?”

“Fine.” She sipped her wine and we spent the remainder of our meal discussing her plans for expanding her accounting firm to another city, with her usual mild attempt to get me to work at her company.

“No, Mom. I prefer where I am.” We were too similar in temperament to get along well together in the same space, and she really didn’t need to know how much I hated what I did for a living. I’d become an accountant only because she’d wanted it so badly.

She wiped her hands and tossed the napkin on the table. “Nothing I say seems to please you today.”

“You should be used to that by now,” I murmured.

She narrowed her eyes at me, even as she flagged someone down for the bill. “I suppose the next thing you’re going to say is that you never wanted to be an accountant, either.”

“Uh, well, I…”

And apparently, that was the last straw, because she immediately got up and left, just as the bill arrived. Damned convenient.

I paid quickly with cash—I was not a fan of credit—and left a huge tip for the surely traumatized wait staff before hurrying outside, just in time to see Sara hop into her car and drive off with a screech of tires.

“Mom!” I yelled, but she didn’t stop. I was an idiot.

I likely wouldn’t hear from her for a few weeks, at least, which was what happened whenever I pissed her off. It may take longer this time, what with tonight’s revelations. Dad, when he was alive, had been able to sweet-talk her out of any mood. He’d been a well-known photographer with a perpetually sunny and mild temperament. He was her total opposite and they had been the perfect fit, somehow. He’d never pushed me to be anything but myself.

I was too like her to ever do more than rub salt in wounds, so I’d just have to wait her out. I felt guilty for the relief coursing through my veins.

* * * *

An hour later, I was back in my office, working on spreadsheets on a Friday night. I usually remained at my desk until the wee hours of the morning, and worked on weekends, too, what with not having a life to speak of, and lots of deadlines to meet. I slept around five hours a night, and less when things were very busy, which was often.

As a senior manager in line for partner, I had to toe the line and put in the hours. It was the next step,and it would make my mother happy. But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a vacation, or even had a weekend off after I began working at this firm five years ago. I was burned out.

Mom thrived on that level of stress, even now; I despised it. I wanted out, to do something else—be someone else—but I had no idea what. My focus had been on my mother’s dreams for me for so long…and after Dad had died, I’d thought that pleasing her would ease some of her grief.

Now that I thought about it, maybe I’d let things go too far. I didn’t want to die of old age never having really lived. I wanted to be able to love myself again.

* * * *

It was after three in the morning when I stumbled into the elevator of my apartment complex. The security guards at the front desk were used to my late hours and barely acknowledged my presence.

I walked down the hallway of the sixth floor to my door in the middle, and after dropping the keys three times, finally opened it. I removed one shoe after another as I moved toward the couch, discarded my belongings, and by the time I did a face plant into the cushions, I was wearing only my shirt, socks, andboxers.