Chapter 59

Derek POV

The rest of our walk was silent as we stepped back into the house.

Mom was the first to greet us as we stepped back into the house.

They had already finished dinner and were now in the living room.

"You two looked so happy from a distance. I hope you enjoyed each other's company." Mom said.

Susanna nodded happily. "Your son is something special," she commented. "On that note, I have to let you know that I have to leave now. It was lovely meeting all of you."

"You are leaving already? Please tell me that you will be back soon." Mom said.

"Of course I will. You'll get tired of my face soon," Susanna answered.

Susanna smiled as Mom pulled her into a hug.

"On that note," Susanna said as she pulled away from mom's hug. "I think your son is very smart and capable of making his own decisions," Susanna said as she smiled back at me.

I nodded with a small smile, showing my appreciation.

Mom shot me a glare. She masked her disapproval, returning her attention to Susanna. "Maybe you shouldn't think at all," Mom said, mashing insults with a fake laugh.

What followed were awkward laughs as we thought of a way out of this situation.

Dad and I stepped away from the awkward situation as we walked to sit on the balcony.

I sighed, taking a seat on the bench. "Dad, you must stop your wife from constantly trying to intervene in my life. I'm going to have to start doing something drastic." I said.

"Why would I do that?" He chuckled. "Thanks to you, she gives you all her attention. I could have a lover if I wanted to, and she wouldn't notice." He joked.

"Mom is a psychopath. She would kill you. I'm pretty sure she has the scents of all your five-hundred-and-something perfumes memorised. If she noticed even a slight difference, she would know." I joked.

"You are right. She can be a bit extra. If I had one more woman, I'd go crazy." Dad laughed.

"I hope you are teaching your son how to be a good husband," Mom said. She took a seat on the arm of Dad's chair.

"Quick question, Mom, if you found out that dad had a lover, would you leave me alone and stop trying to run my life so you could fix your marriage?" I asked.

Dad's smile dropped, and he glared at me murderously.

"Who would he leave me for?" Mom laughed.

"You didn't answer." I insisted with a smile.

"I'd leave him that way. I'd have more hours in a day to try and run your life." She answered.

It was official: she was a psychopath. I'm pretty sure there had to be some mental institutions that had issued warnings saying she was a danger to society.

"Well, since you insist on continuing to be an idiot, and you know for a fact that I'm insistent and would never stop until you are married, and I can't risk the chance of you getting married to a mad woman, I think that the two of us need to come to a compromise." Mom suggested. "I'll agree that you can marry whomever you are seeing now. I can see she affects you. I give you my approval." She added.

"Let me get this straight: you are going to support me in making a decision that I don't need your permission to make?" I asked.

She nodded. "I'm beginning to think you'll never be able to do any better. I need a wedding date, preferably for this summer." She answered. "You can't leave. I have so many ideas to show you for your wedding," Mom said excitedly. She stood up and ran back into the house.

"Good luck, she's been planning your wedding since you turned fifteen. She has a lot to show you." Dad warned.

"And you allowed her?" I questioned.

"I just wanted you out of the house. Besides, it was either you or me. Otherwise, she'd have started planning our next one." He laughed.

I sighed, leaning into my chair.

This was one of those moments where I wished a meeting would magically pop up on my schedule.

I can't begin to describe how relieved I felt when I received a text from Vincent. He invited me to join him at a bar, along with another friend. Under normal conditions, I would have declined, but today, I was desperate for any excuse whatsoever.

******

I twisted my arm, hoping it would relieve some of the pain I felt in my upper arm.

In all my years, I've taken karate, boxing, and even boxing, but I've never met a woman that strong. How did Clara survive all those years?

Through my drive here, I'd gotten to the purpose of this trip to the bar.

One of my friends, Aaron, had recently gotten married without as much as a warning to his parents, who were on the verge of disinheriting him. To celebrate, he said he wanted to go out.

And of all the places he could have gone to, he said he wanted to be where he wouldn't be recognized or have the paparazzi snap his pictures. So we ended up here. At a small bar that I'm pretty sure no one knows anything about.

Both Aaron and Vincent were pretty easy to track down. Find the loudest spot in a bar, and you'll find them there.

"I guess I should congratulate you for getting married," I said as I greeted Aaron.

"You know me, dude, I'd be divorced before you know it." He answered, raising his glass.

Why did I still hang out with these losers?

He handed me a glass. I raised my glass, too, taking a shot of liquor.

"Vincent is about to take on the drinking challenge."

"I think I'll sit there," I pointed at an empty table. I didn't want to be around if anything was to happen.

Aaron shrugged, returning his attention to Vincent.

I walked over and settled at the empty table, and ordered a bottle of one of their strongest liquor.

I was on my fifth drink while I watched Vincent make a fool of himself. He was a functional alcoholic; chances are he'd be all right for work tomorrow.

Sitting alone left me with very little to do, so I looked around the bar, trying to predict most people's conversations.

A woman came storming toward me. She looked infuriated as she pulled up a stool at my table.

"What are you looking at?" She snapped. She slammed her handbag on the table, nearly hitting my face.

I slip my drink to my side, pushing my chair away from her to widen the gap between us.

"I'm so sorry about that." She whispered as she took her final deep breath. "It's just that I don't get it. Why are men such conceited idiots?" She almost yelled.

She continued to stare at me, expecting an answer from me. Was I going to regret this? I sighed and then took a sip of my drink. "That's what happens when you choose a guy who continuously tries to ignore you. Besides, he looks like he probably has a wife and kids at home." I added.

She sighed, her eyes widening in realisation. "That's why he kept hiding his ring finger all night." She paused.

I shrugged."Okay, Mr expert, how would you recommend I speak to you next?" She asked.

When did I agree to have a long conversation?

"How about that guy on the far right?" she asked.

"I think you can do far better than a guy who only likes you when you are drunk so that he doesn't have to listen to you speak." I pointed out.

"There are plenty of guys like him around here." She admitted. "How about that one?" She pointed to another guy.

This felt a bit predatory. This wasn't how I'd recommend meeting people, but it was her funeral.

She didn't wait for my response; she was already walking toward the guy.

At least I could sit quietly and enjoy a few drinks.