Poles Apart
Page 51
“I didn’t have anything when we first met, actually,” Carson shot back. “I hadn’t even been signed to a team when I first met her. I was a nobody. Emma doesn’t want my money.”
“Of course she does!”
“If she wanted my money then why has she never demanded it all this time? Sasha is almost two, yet Emma has never asked me for a penny!”
I flopped down on the sofa next to Kimberly, and she patted my arm sympathetically. “This is a mess,” I muttered, putting my head in my hands.
The shouting continued as I sat there with my heart in my throat, barely managing to keep my tears at bay. “That little girl isn’t yours, Carson. Wake up! She’s taking you for a fool and exploiting you! Have you asked for a paternity test?”
“I don’t need a paternity test. Emma’s word is good enough for me. She says Sasha is mine, and that’s all I need to know.”
I smiled weakly because I actually loved that Carson trusted me like that.
“If she really is yours then why did she never tell you about her?” Carson’s mother shot back sarcastically.
Carson sighed heavily. “She said she was doing it for me because she wanted better for me than to be a teenage father.”
“Sheer and utter bull poop!” his mother scoffed. “Another lie to lure you into her web!”
“Look, if Emma was after my money then she would be the one insisting we get married, not me. You’ve got her all wrong.”
“Married?” his mother shrieked, clearly horrified.
“Married?” Kimberly whispered next to me.
I nodded and looked up at her shocked face. “Apparently,” I confirmed noncommittally.
“You can’t marry a stripper! Have you lost your mind?” his mother cried.
“Mum, seriously, you need to stop this judgemental act. That’s the mother of my child you’re disrespecting. You just need to get to know her. She’s not like you’re thinking she is!”
“What is she like then? Because I’m thinking she’s approaching her thirties, boob job, slutty clothes, and crude tattoos covering her body.”
Carson laughed incredulously. “She’s just turned nineteen, definitely no boob job, she rocks a hoodie, and no tattoos at all,” he answered before adding, “Not that there’s anything wrong with tattoos, of course.”
“And when do I get to meet the little gold-digger so I can make my own judgement on her?”
I sank into the seat further, wanting to disappear or run for the hills.
“She’s right in there, hiding and probably listening to every nasty word you’ve said about her,” Carson answered.
When two sets of footsteps sounded toward the room, I jumped to my feet and watched the door, horrified. His mother’s eyes were hard as she stepped into the room. The blue to her eyes was the exact colour of Carson’s and my daughter’s. Without speaking, her gaze raked down me slowly as if sizing me up and seeing exactly what level of depravity she had to deal with. Carson walked into the room, bypassing his mother and coming to stand next to me. Unconsciously, I cringed into his side, wanting to hide from the judgemental, scathing look on his mother’s face.
“Mum, this is Emma, my fiancée. Emma, this is my mum, Jillian Matthews.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and the heat emanating from his skin was strangely calming.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs Matthews,” I forced out, my voice small and intimidated. I knew right then and there I would never like this woman, and by the disgusted look on her face, the feeling was going to be mutual.
One of her perfectly-plucked eyebrows rose as her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t answer as she swung her handbag from her shoulder and looked through it, coming out with a chequebook and pen. “So, how much will it take for you and my supposed grandchild to disappear?” She dropped her bag on the floor and flicked open the chequebook, looking at me inquisitively. “Ten thousand? Fifteen? Or have you set your sights higher than that?”
I almost choked on air. It looked like it wasn’t only Carson who thought I was a nasty prostitute that needed money thrown at her. “I don’t…” I shook my head firmly as Carson growled in frustration.
“Mum, what the hell? Just stop it!” he cried angrily.
She ground her teeth. “Well, someone has to sort this situation out! Her claiming you two have a daughter together will be disastrous for your career!”
That was when I saw red. “Claiming? I’m not claiming it, we do have a daughter,” I growled. Clearly this woman thought I was after one thing and one thing only: money. Yes, I worked at a strip club and yes, we had a daughter together, but it wasn’t like I was using the information to fund my own life. I had never wanted anything from Carson other than for him to love me – which would never happen. “But I’ve already told him he doesn’t have to be involved. If he wants to brush this under the carpet, then he can. I’m not the one you should be waving your chequebook at! I’m not the one insisting we play happy families, he is!” I pointed at Carson angrily. Of course, I could understand I’d done wrong by her son in her eyes, but in my eyes I had always tried to shield him from this. It wasn’t my fault the papers suddenly investigated it. If anything, it was Carson’s fault for giving me that necklace when the reporter was sitting there watching.
Her hard gaze fell on Carson. “See, she’s willing to let this all go away. Why can’t you?” she asked harshly.
“Of course she does!”
“If she wanted my money then why has she never demanded it all this time? Sasha is almost two, yet Emma has never asked me for a penny!”
I flopped down on the sofa next to Kimberly, and she patted my arm sympathetically. “This is a mess,” I muttered, putting my head in my hands.
The shouting continued as I sat there with my heart in my throat, barely managing to keep my tears at bay. “That little girl isn’t yours, Carson. Wake up! She’s taking you for a fool and exploiting you! Have you asked for a paternity test?”
“I don’t need a paternity test. Emma’s word is good enough for me. She says Sasha is mine, and that’s all I need to know.”
I smiled weakly because I actually loved that Carson trusted me like that.
“If she really is yours then why did she never tell you about her?” Carson’s mother shot back sarcastically.
Carson sighed heavily. “She said she was doing it for me because she wanted better for me than to be a teenage father.”
“Sheer and utter bull poop!” his mother scoffed. “Another lie to lure you into her web!”
“Look, if Emma was after my money then she would be the one insisting we get married, not me. You’ve got her all wrong.”
“Married?” his mother shrieked, clearly horrified.
“Married?” Kimberly whispered next to me.
I nodded and looked up at her shocked face. “Apparently,” I confirmed noncommittally.
“You can’t marry a stripper! Have you lost your mind?” his mother cried.
“Mum, seriously, you need to stop this judgemental act. That’s the mother of my child you’re disrespecting. You just need to get to know her. She’s not like you’re thinking she is!”
“What is she like then? Because I’m thinking she’s approaching her thirties, boob job, slutty clothes, and crude tattoos covering her body.”
Carson laughed incredulously. “She’s just turned nineteen, definitely no boob job, she rocks a hoodie, and no tattoos at all,” he answered before adding, “Not that there’s anything wrong with tattoos, of course.”
“And when do I get to meet the little gold-digger so I can make my own judgement on her?”
I sank into the seat further, wanting to disappear or run for the hills.
“She’s right in there, hiding and probably listening to every nasty word you’ve said about her,” Carson answered.
When two sets of footsteps sounded toward the room, I jumped to my feet and watched the door, horrified. His mother’s eyes were hard as she stepped into the room. The blue to her eyes was the exact colour of Carson’s and my daughter’s. Without speaking, her gaze raked down me slowly as if sizing me up and seeing exactly what level of depravity she had to deal with. Carson walked into the room, bypassing his mother and coming to stand next to me. Unconsciously, I cringed into his side, wanting to hide from the judgemental, scathing look on his mother’s face.
“Mum, this is Emma, my fiancée. Emma, this is my mum, Jillian Matthews.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and the heat emanating from his skin was strangely calming.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs Matthews,” I forced out, my voice small and intimidated. I knew right then and there I would never like this woman, and by the disgusted look on her face, the feeling was going to be mutual.
One of her perfectly-plucked eyebrows rose as her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t answer as she swung her handbag from her shoulder and looked through it, coming out with a chequebook and pen. “So, how much will it take for you and my supposed grandchild to disappear?” She dropped her bag on the floor and flicked open the chequebook, looking at me inquisitively. “Ten thousand? Fifteen? Or have you set your sights higher than that?”
I almost choked on air. It looked like it wasn’t only Carson who thought I was a nasty prostitute that needed money thrown at her. “I don’t…” I shook my head firmly as Carson growled in frustration.
“Mum, what the hell? Just stop it!” he cried angrily.
She ground her teeth. “Well, someone has to sort this situation out! Her claiming you two have a daughter together will be disastrous for your career!”
That was when I saw red. “Claiming? I’m not claiming it, we do have a daughter,” I growled. Clearly this woman thought I was after one thing and one thing only: money. Yes, I worked at a strip club and yes, we had a daughter together, but it wasn’t like I was using the information to fund my own life. I had never wanted anything from Carson other than for him to love me – which would never happen. “But I’ve already told him he doesn’t have to be involved. If he wants to brush this under the carpet, then he can. I’m not the one you should be waving your chequebook at! I’m not the one insisting we play happy families, he is!” I pointed at Carson angrily. Of course, I could understand I’d done wrong by her son in her eyes, but in my eyes I had always tried to shield him from this. It wasn’t my fault the papers suddenly investigated it. If anything, it was Carson’s fault for giving me that necklace when the reporter was sitting there watching.
Her hard gaze fell on Carson. “See, she’s willing to let this all go away. Why can’t you?” she asked harshly.
