CHASING MY EX-WIFE

CHAPTER 27

Richard's POV

So disoriented, I rise from my misery when a chuckle reaches my ear, making me flicker my eyes open to see a pair of brown eyes that remind me of Arabel.

It isn't Arabel. It is my mother.

“Finally, someone is awake,” she murmurs before passing me a cup of coffee, which I take quickly to quench my thirst.

When I gulp down everything, I raise a brow in question. “What happened?”

She watches me for a while before asking with concern. “You don't remember?”

That causes me to shake my head and feel like I've just recovered from a severe hangover.
Was I drunk?
I wasn't.

It's been a while since I drank, so why can't I remember a thing?

I stare at my mother as I try to remember when it hits me. It was raining. I was outside when it rained. I called Ashley. Then what happened?

"You were out by the time I arrived," she tells me, judging from my expression that I remember everything now.

“Oh!” I mutter.

I called Ashley to get my mother. I must have lost consciousness before mother arrived.

“Thank you, Mom,” I appreciate, stretching the empty cup back to her. It makes me wonder what I would have done if she wasn't here with me anymore.

It makes my heart tug.

She looks like she has something to say, but she looks hesitant. When she glares at me, I know she wants to scold me.

To avoid her nagging, I rise to go take a bath and head to work.

“Where are you going?” She asks after me.

“Work.”

“What? You are not going anywhere!” She snaps at me, standing up to drag me back. “How many times have I told you not to go out in the rain? I called you twice last night, didn't I?”

Here we go.

“Answer me. It's high time you go back to the mansion or find yourself a maid or something. I can't keep having heart attacks over an adult like you.”

“Mom!”

“Or better still, get yourself a wife!”

“Mom?!” I tell her, knowing where this is going. She promised never to talk about my divorce again, but I know she is beginning to tread along that path. She wouldn't mention a wife to me if she wasn't remembering something about Arabel.

I realize my mistake already, and she knows how much I have been trying to make amends by finding and apologizing to her for my mistakes.

A fresh shimmer of rage threads through my gut. I turn away from her and stride to the bathroom.

I am going to work, and that's it.

As I begin to take a bath, I try to calm my nerves, hoping to get some work done to distract myself a little from thinking about everything.

Just before I can rinse myself off, something clicks in my brain.

Arabel was here last night.

I blink.

Yes, she was here. She stays next door to me.

I exhale sharply before swiftly rinsing off and hurriedly leaving with a towel around my waist.

“Mom?” I call out to her, glancing around for her. “Mom?”

She is in the living room, with her handbag. She looks enraged, and I figured she wants to leave.

“Mom?” I rush to her with agitation. “Guess what?”

“Let go of me, you silly boy!” She yanks my hand away from her shoulder, staring at me with an icy glare.

I let go and smile. “You don't want to hear what surprise I have for you?”

She seems to be thinking about whether to let her curiosity take over or go. “What is it?”

“Before I say anything, tell me you are not mad at me."  I flash her a smile, excitement gushing through my existence.

“Just say what it is. I am not mad; even if I am, I can't disown you!”

I laugh, throwing my head backwards. When I sober up, I see her watching me with confusion. She must be wondering what is wrong with me for laughing that way.

I hold her shoulder once more and say, “Mom, you can't believe who I saw last night in the elevator.”

“Who?!” Her curiosity is evident in her quick demands.

“Arabel.”

She furrows her brow in confusion. “Your wife?”

I wanted to correct her. But I decide not to.

“Yes.”

“Did she admit…”

“No. She is still pretending to be Bella, but she turned out to be the one who rented out the apartment next  door," I inform her, watching the surprise flit through her expression.

“What?!”

"Yes." I grin widely, letting go of her and waiting for her suggestion. She was always good at that. Making suggestions that have always worked. Even when she always ordered me around, it was in my best interest. It always worked to my benefit, including my marriage to Arabel.

Our marriage ended because I didn't realize she was the only thing I needed. I didn't realize she was the best for me. I wanted to man up and choose for myself. It turned out my choice was going to be the death of me, and Mother was right after all and would probably be right forever.

My mother was always good at giving the right advice and suggestions.

“Your marriage with her didn't work the first time…” She pauses, making me think she is not going to support my decision to have her back. “But sometimes the strongest things are what are broken and healed.”

My heart rate increases. Anticipation is darting down my spine.

“What do you say?” I eventually ask, hoping for a suggestion. I need to know what to do. I don't want to make rash decisions that will make her find an apartment elsewhere.

“Give it time," she finally says, a smile making its way to her face. “Everything will be fine.”

When?

When will she finally admit that she is Arabel? How long do I have to wait until I get her forgiveness? How long do I also have to pretend?

I desperately want to ask her each of these questions, but my mouth remains silent. She might say something that would lighten my mood and excite us all.

But I know I should listen to her.

She may vanish once more if I do anything that she dislikes, just as she did seven years ago.

“I should go,” she mentions, walking to the door.

Realizing I am still in nothing but a towel around my waist, I shout. “Let me grab a shirt.”

I dash to the closet, grab a shirt, pull it over my head, put on a pair of shorts, and sprint towards the door which she has opened already.

Closing the door from behind, I walk side by side with her as we take the elevator to the garage, where her car is parked. I'm tempted not to look back and stare at Arabel's door.

I am not even sure she came back last night, considering how she left in such a hurry. I just hope everything is fine.

The elevator dings open, and we enter in silence. She appears engrossed in thought, preventing me from inquiring further about what to do to impress a lady.

When it opens, we step out. “Thanks, mom.”

“No more going out in the rain, ok? You haven't done that in years. I wonder why it has to be last night after two calls of warning," she glares at me like she did earlier, wagging a warning finger at me.

I smile.

Women and nagging.

Just then, a car drives in. And Arabel comes out alone, making me raise a brow.

Slowly, she looks up, and our eyes meet. Her gaze doesn't leave mine until she closes the car door and approaches me by the gate. Then it shifts to the woman next to me, while I watch for a flicker of emotion or recognition.

“Hi, Mr. Giodano,” she greets politely as she turns to my mom with a smile. “Hi.”

“Aren't you the lady I mistook for someone at the company the other day?” Mother demands, pretending like she doesn't know it is Arabel.

Arabel nods without a word.

“I'm so sorry for the other day. Forgive my manners. You just look so much like a daughter of mine…” Mother trails off, memories of seven years ago racing through her as she blinks back the tears threatening to flow down her eyes.

“I'm so sorry to hear that…”

“It's fine,” Mother interrupts. “What's the name?”

“Bella. Bella Portillo.”

“Japanese?”

“American.”

“Are you married?” She demands, and I shift uncomfortably, hoping she reads the message.

Arabel let out a light smile before replying. “No, I am not.”

Silence ensues as they both watch each other. I am about to break the awkward silence when she suddenly says. “My birthday is in two days, I would like to invite you. Will you come?”

Her smile falters.

Without realizing that, Mother dips her hand into her bag to produce a birthday invitation, which she stretches to Arabel, who is hesitant to take it.

When she finally takes it, Mother waves at the two of us before rushing to her car. Arabel turns to me with a furrowed brow, and I raise my shoulder indifferently.

Shit! She mutters loud enough for me to hear.

****

Another chapter to bless your day.

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