Page 91 of House of Payne

Would she understand the decisions I’ve made to survive?

Or would she remind me of what I’d let go to get here, and the parts of me I’ve kept hidden to make it to the top?

I want to believe she’d understand. After all, she knew about my father and the kind of life he led.

I also know she’d be disappointed.

She would’ve at least wanted you to find love. Remember how she always told you to fight for it? To recognize it when it comes into your life?

Even when I was little, she’d stay up with me at night, telling me stories about how rare and powerful love is, and how it’s worth fighting for.

Of all the things my father had, my mother was far and away the most valuable thing he owned, and we’d all known it.

My brothers, sister, and I all knew how lucky we were to have her kindness and generosity prevail despite the world we lived in.

Losing her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to live with, and each day without her, and without her patience and wisdom to help guide me, feels like I’m drifting further away from the man she wanted me to be.

I know that without her, I’m turning into the man my father wantsme to be.

I also know he didn’t force me into this life.

I went into it with eyes wide open, and I don’t like that having London around is making me question it.

She has no idea how hard I’ve worked, or what I’ve sacrificed for the Payne legacy.

Nor will she.

London is here to scratch an itch, not help me face my demons.

I have no interest in rehashing my past, especially not with her. One night with her shouldn’t have me this worked up.

Why, then, do I feel the need to go back and comfort her?

Why do I feel an urge to be there when she opens her eyes?

I spend the next few minutes listening for London through the door.

I don’t know if I want her to find me or not.

When I come out of the bathroom, I fling the closet doors open and riffle through the contents. I select my usual suit, a button-down shirt, and a pair of socks. As I pull on the clothes, I focus on the task at hand and try not to think about London.

What good will it do, anyway?

I won’t seek her out like a lovesick puppy.

Still, as I leave the room to find my usual breakfast of oatmeal and eggs waiting on the marble kitchen counter, I replay the phone call in my head. I’ve heard plenty of angry calls from family members and boyfriends, so I don’t know why this one was hard to listen to.

Something about the devastated look in London’s eyes and the way she hung her head as her worthless boyfriend hammered into her got to me.

And hearing her father rip into her made something inside me snap.

I have half a mind to drive over to the diner and teach him a lesson.

Considering everything London has given up to save him, I expected him to be a bit more grateful. I’d even expect him to make it up to her, buthe has no idea, exactly, what she’s gotten into.

But the old man isn’t stupid.

By now, I suspect he’s put two and two together, even if he won’t say it loud.