Chapter 113 Uncle Tim
MELISSA'S POV
“What are you doing here?” My mom asked, and I didn't know what else I expected her to ask me.
“I came to see you,” I said in the smallest voice that I could muster. “I was missing you.”
I could see her eyes dampen. But as I blinked, it was no longer there.
I expected her to lean in for a hug, but she didn't. I could only imagine that I had lost all types of favors from my mom. She simply pushed the door wider, granting me entrance. At least we were starting from somewhere.
By the time I walked in, I couldn't help but gasp at the amount of insane changes that had happened.
“You've practically renovated the house,” I said in awe, and she cocked an eyebrow.
“Maybe if you visited more often, you would know. You didn't even come for your uncle's burial.”
“It wasn't that important,” I said, shrugging before I could bite my tongue. That was the wrong thing to say.
“It was Uncle Tim. Your favorite. The one that you couldn't go a week without talking to.”
I felt a stab in my chest. These people were important to me. But maybe that was just once upon a time.
I proceeded to the living room, and the same changes had taken place. It was clear my mom was now taking a liking to white. And I loved it for her.
“Can I take a seat?” I asked, and she nodded. I sat down on the fluffy chair, and I almost giggled like a little child. It had been a while since I sat down on something that was just so comfortable.
James preferred expensive chairs that could barely accommodate my ass.
“Did you come here for something?” She asked, like she could read my mind.
“May I at least get some water?” I asked, batting my eyelashes. If that worked on my mom once upon a time, it didn't work anymore. With the snap of a finger, some maids were handing me orange juice and water just in case. I took a sip of the orange juice.
“You should have a seat, Mom,” I whispered, noticing that she was just standing there the whole time.
“This is my house,” she said in a stiff tone. “I can do what I want.” She proceeded to sit down.
“I just came to check up on you.”
“Did you maybe break up with that loser?” She asked, and I swallowed hard. I didn't know if I should be hurt that she was associating my happiness with leaving James.
The disappointed look when I shook my head was out of this world. “No, I'm still with him.”
“Aren't there enough men in this world?” She asked, and I looked away. There was just something about James at that time. But now, I even tried to remember what I saw about him.
“You lost your family. Your friends. Your life. Are you even still pursuing your modelling career?” She asked.
I let out an awkward laugh. “I wasn't heading anywhere with that.”
Or at least that was what James told me. He said I was better off in his arms.
She clicked her tongue. “You know that you were such a good model, Melissa. You're letting him make decisions for you again? On this too? Come on, Mel.”
All this wasn't the reason that I was there. I just wanted to get what I came for. I wanted to hear James praise me. It has been a while since he has done that. All that both of us had done in the last few months was argue.
Now that Isabel was out of the picture, the least I could do was try to save my relationship.
I rubbed my hands against my gown. “This isn't the reason why I'm here,” I said, and my mom blinked. Like she wasn't even shocked one bit.
“Why are you here?” She asked.
“I need the family heirloom,” I said in a whisper. Now that I said the words out loud, it sounded weird even in my own ears.
My mother leaned back, with her eyes on my stomach. “Are you pregnant?”
I let out an awkward laugh. “No.”
“So he doesn't even see you worthy of being the mother to his kids?”
“James needs to be stable first of all. He can't just decide to have a child one night when things are kind of heated.”
My mother shook her head. “Is this what he told you? Or are you just making an excuse for him? Because it sounds like something that he would say.”
“He said it. And I don't think I'm ready for a child either.”
That was a lie. I had wanted to be a mother for a long time. But if he wasn't ready, I couldn't force things. I just needed to get us back to our old life before I would even think of getting pregnant.
“Fine then. Back to the family heirloom. What do you need it for?”
I didn't see any need of lying to her at this point. “To sell it. It's practically mine now. And I need it for urgent family needs.”
My mom shook her head, and I didn't miss the tear that slipped out of her eyes. “I'm not even dead yet, Mel. And yet you want to just sell the family heirloom.”
I shrugged. “James needs it. The both of us do. We need to put his company back in place.”
My mom folded her hands in front of her. I knew that look. Whatever decision she made was going to be final from there. “I'm sorry, I can't. The least you can do is ask me for money. I would have sent it to you without even considering. Even if you're acting like a proper prodigal daughter now.”
“I didn't think you would,” I whispered. I watched her as she grabbed her cheque book from the side table. She scribbled on it, before handing the cheque over to me.
It took a lot for me not to scrunch my face up in disappointment.
“A hundred thousand?” I asked, and she shrugged like she was daring me to say more. “The family heirloom would have run for millions, Mom. That's how much James needs.”
“He isn't even worth your love yet. Maybe if he was, I would have considered it. For now, there's nothing. If he doesn't want the cheque, you can spend it on yourself. You need a proper spa day.”
I pressed my lips into a thin line. “Thanks, mom,” I said, and she didn't say anything as I headed outside. Just as I was about to hail down a car, she called out to me.
“If things go south, know that you're always welcome at home. And one of the drivers would take you.”
Before I could speak, a black Rolls-Royce parked right in front of me, and the driver opened the passenger side of the door. I ached to hug my mom, but I didn't do any of that.
I got into the car instead, and I hated getting out of the car as it stopped right in front of the apartment that I shared with James.
“Did she hand it over?” He asked immediately.
“You didn't even ask if I was tired or not.”
He clicked his tongue like I was irritating. “I don't have time for this. Did she hand it over or not?”
I reached into my bag, with my fingers touching the tips of the cheque. I brought my hand back out. “No,” I said. “She didn't give it.”
His face was turned down in disappointment. “I should have known that you wouldn't be able to get anything done.”