Alpha Billionaire Series
The Wrong Choice Chapter 3

GAVIN

Traffic was a nightmare; the parking lots were all full. Of all the days of the week to do shopping, my mother just had to choose a Sunday at 1 p.m. The after-church crowd always packed out every parking lot like it was their religious duty to patronize every store at once. Mom prattled on about her dog's grooming appointment and how we'd be late, while I scanned every row for any available spot. Twice I passed up an open spot in the back row because she didn't want to walk that far.

"Oh, there." She pointed to the right at a car with backing lights on. "Looks like they're leaving." Mom cradled Mittens in her hand, his scruffy tail wagging furiously. The way his tongue lolled out of his mouth on one side made him look adorable, but from a purely medical standpoint, the dog had issues. He probably should have been put down months ago, but Mom insisted he was her baby.

I waited patiently for the mid-size SUV to back out of the space, then swooped my sedan into its spot before it could be taken by someone else in this zoo of a parking lot. Mom scoffed at how close the other drivers had parked to the yellow lines painted on the pavement, turning her nose up as she squeezed out the door.

"It's ridiculous. They should make these lines farther apart, don't you think?" She had to set Mittens down on the seat to make it out the door, so she reached back in and picked him up. She struggled with him as he wriggled, feistily fighting her grip. He must have hated the groomer as much as I hated driving Mom around. That dog and I had a lot in common.

"This is normal parking for this part of town, Mom." I rolled my eyes at her and waited for her to shut the door, then pushed the button on my key fob to lock the car. It wasn't fancy, but in New Orleans you didn't just leave your car unlocked. "And if we had done this on Tuesday like I suggested, we would have had our pick of spots."

Mom shuffled around the back end of the car. "Well, I'll just say, for once your choice of that boring Honda has paid off. If you'd have bought the Lexus, I picked out for you, you wouldn't have a parking spot anywhere on this side of town." She clicked her tongue. "You'd have to have a chauffeur drive you for fear of some maniac damaging your car."

Placing my hand in the small of her back, I walked alongside her toward the stores. She continued to complain about the number of cars, and I continued to tune her out. This job of running errands with my mother was supposed to be my father's, but he had business meetings out of town, a more regular thing these days. So as an only child, I was left with the duty of shuttling Mom around to do all the things she could be doing by herself but refused to, because "A proper lady should be escorted."

The pet groomer reeked of wet dog, the stench so pungent it had me gagging for a moment, but Mom strutted through the place without flinching. I could tell she'd done this too many times. Tables lined either side of the long narrow room, the check-in counter stretched across the back wall. I found it a very odd setup, considering every customer entering the place would have to parade their pet past the grooming tables where dogs and cats were leashed and being cared for. Mom's heels clicked on the tile floor. I told her to wear sensible shoes because we'd be walking a lot, but she insisted that a skirt and heels were proper attire for a lady. Being raised in a wealthy family had had its perks growing up, but sometimes as an adult it felt very put-on. I enjoyed having what I needed to survive, but I would much rather have a simple life than the pretension that wealth can exude. I just wanted to be down to earth, to live a quiet peaceful life. Mom, on the other hand, loved the attention. She checked Mittens in as I watched a couple interact. There to pick up their dog, they acted more like happy parents picking up a kindergartener from school than a puppy from a groomer. They fawned over the pup-a Labrador retriever-praising it and giving it treats. When they both stood, the man held the leash, and the woman rose up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the nose with her lips. I looked away, not wanting them to catch me observing their cute moment.

"Now, that's what you need." Mom hooked her arm around mine and forcefully turned me toward the exit. We headed that way, off to see the stylist or whatever ridiculous errand she had next.

"What, a puppy?" I chuckled, knowing she was about to go off on one of her tangents about how "Laura Hochner down the street already has two grandchildren." When this lecture happened, I always tried to keep it light and hopeful, but Mom mother was a very strict and severe woman at times. She'd had this idea of exactly how her life should go, and regardless of how I saw my life going, she would not be happy until hers was picture perfect.

"A woman, silly." The bell chimed as we exited the store, a hint of something delicious in the air. It was a welcome respite from the wet-dog scent. "Oh, God. Fried food. How awful. Who would put that in their body?"

I patted the hand hooked around my arm like a talon as she guided me along the sidewalk headed who knew where. Since Dad had gotten a high cholesterol diagnosis, she'd finally started listening to me about healthy eating choices. Unfortunately, she began to demonize anything she deemed unhealthy, then proceeded to label everyone who made a choice that didn't agree with her as "a horrible person."

"Well, there are plenty of people who eat that food. Otherwise, they wouldn't sell it." Happy the conversation had taken such a sharp turn, I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded at a petite blonde woman who sashayed by with a tiny dog in her arms. She wore bright pink activewear and her face was slathered in makeup. I did a double take because the way her nose turned up, she almost resembled her dog. Mom, however, thought my double take was due to the way her a*s jiggled when she walked.

"It's not polite to stare, Gavin. But at least you're beginning to notice the opposite s*x again. I'll tell you; Tiffany sure did a number on your confidence." Mom yanked me along, my gut sinking at the mention of my ex.

"Tiffany did nothing to my confidence. She just wasn't a good fit for me." I should have known I wouldn't get out of the lecture that easy.

"Well, you haven't dated anyone in almost six months. How do you expect to give me grandbabies if you're not even dating? You know Laura Hochner down the street is expecting again."

I laughed at the thought of a 62-year-old woman being pregnant, but Mom didn't replace it funny. She scowled at me, that sort of scowl that puts you in your place. I was surprised she didn't use my middle name. My mother had never been anything but severe, so it was no surprise that in her older age she still hung on to her bitter edge. "What?"

"It's not funny. Her son and his wife are going to have grandbaby number three and I don't have a single one!" Her voice turned to a whine, wearing on my patience. "Tiffany was perfect; you dumped her. Melody-she was stunning. What perfect little babies you'd have made. And Amber, wow Gavin you really messed that one up."

"Can' we not do this in public?" I kept the smile plastered on my face as Mom opened the door to the salon. "Really, it's a private conversation. And we can discuss it when we're back in the car."

Mom clicked over to the salon check-in counter, resting her elbow across it and plopping her oversized purse down. The woman behind the counter looked up at her with wide eyes, tiny wrinkles around them matching the ones near her mouth as she smiled. They betrayed her age.

"Margret! Here for a cut and color?" The woman focused on her computer screen, pecking away at her keyboard. She was the type of woman who fought aging very obviously. I could tell an attempt was made to cover silver streaks in her hair by adding blonde highlights, but the silver peeked through anyway. Her attire looked like that of someone half her age, and her makeup was more suited to a fashion magazine than a later-middle-aged woman who ran a beauty salon. For once I was thankful that my mother did not have an age complex like that.

"Oh, no, Sally. Just a blow-out." Mom clicked her fingers on the counter, a pensive look on her face. "How many grandchildren do you have now?"

I gritted my teeth in silent defiance of the humiliation that fought to creep into my cheeks. Mom had a way of bullying me without letting on to the world that it was happening. The passive-aggressive manipulation worked on my father, only because he was forced to live with and take care of her. But I'd moved on. My life was my own now and I had tried to make that very clear to her on many occasions.

"Oh, I have six now. Arthur and Val have three little ones. Tommy and Stace have two, and Bexley just told me they're expecting too." Sally gleamed with pride. "Want to see pictures?" She got her phone out and opened the photo app, scrolling through as Mom continued her interrogation aimed at dismantling my self-control.

"Oh, definitely!" Mom eyed me as she took the phone. "And how old is your youngest child? It's Bexley, right? She's got to be nearing 40 by now."

Sally snickered. "Do I look that old?" Her hand swiping at the air in feigned humility, she added, "Bexley is 29. She's been married for three years now, so it's about time they had a baby for me to swaddle."

"Oh, Sally, you don't say. You don't look a day over 40." Mom handed the phone back with a pointed glare in my direction. "Gavin here is 38 now."

Sally turned her attention to me with raised eyebrows and a huge grin. "And how many kids do you have?"

Mom had a way of pushing every last button to light my fuse. I cleared my throat before speaking, buying me a few more seconds to temper my response. "None... Miss Sally, I have focused on my career as a successful neurosurgeon."

Even Sally clicked her tongue. It was as if the entire gaggle of women in that salon turned on me in a split second. Hushed whispers began rising up, replacing the din blow dryers. Mom stared at me with a justified expression, and Sally rose from her spot. "Follow me, Margret. I'll have you with Xinda today." As Sally led my mother away, she glanced back over her shoulder with a look of incredulity. Her eyes told me she'd have liked to lecture me, but she had more tact than my mother.

I found a spot to sit down and rest and picked up a copy of Cosmo, flipping through the pages to replace nothing of interest. For the past ten years, Mom had done nothing but badger me about replaceing a "perfect girl" to settle down with. Tiffany was A+ according to her, but Mom didn't know Tiffany had a major problem with amphetamines, picked up in college when she had a doctor friend prescribe them for her so she could stay awake studying.

Mom also didn't know that Amber had a child with another man, whom she still wanted to be in the picture. I could have handled the single-mom type, if she hadn't also wanted to be involved with the baby daddy. And Melody, well she was the one that got away. My high-school sweetheart. It was probably meant to be, but I was only 25 and in med-school. Melody wanted to start a family, but with residency and all the courses, I didn't have time for her. She waited. We did as much as we could together, but eventually she told me I had to do things differently or she had to move on. Of course, with my career on the line, I had to let her down. I had no choice. I hoped she'd have waited for me, but by the end of that year, she was dating someone else-a high-school chemistry teacher. Yeah, that one hurt.

My mind wandered to Madison Springer. For months I'd been intrigued by her, but she seemed so hung up on a man who would likely never come out of a coma. That alone made it likely that she was not my mother's idea of a "perfect woman" but it didn't rule her out. I'd resolved to get to know her better months ago, but she was a tough cookie to crack. But if I was going to even have a chance with her, I'd have to bide my time.

If only when I was 25 years old, Melody had been there, waiting, planning on our future. I would be in a different place. And what if I did to Madison what Melody did to me? Just give up on what could be because of a temporary truth. Sure, Melody and I had been involved, and Madison and I barely knew each other, but if you don't try you never know.

The magazine in my lap had lost my interest. Now all I could think about was the beautiful smile of Madison Springer. I had to replace a way to pull her out of herself.