I sat on the antique couch in the cavernous living room of the mansion where I grew up. It was the first time I’d been back in years. The place was silent aside from the steady ticking of the imposing grandfather clock. My eyes tracked over the place, taking in the towering bookshelves packed with colorful spines, the enormous paintings of forested and mountainous landscapes, and the massive, marble fireplace.

I’d always heard that when you go back home as an adult, everything seems smaller. But that wasn’t true in the slightest in my case—my home was just as imposing and museum-like as I remembered it being.

My hands wrapped around a drink, I waited for my mother to come down from upstairs. The drive from the city to Westchester had only taken a couple of hours, and I’d spent it wondering how this conversation was going to go.

I wasn’t even sure what I was hoping to accomplish. All I knew was that there was something in me causing me to throw the best thing in my life away, and I had to get to the bottom of what could possibly make me act this way.

“Something else I can get you, Mr. Donovan?” asked one of the members of the staff that flitted around the place.

“No, thank you,” I said, drumming my fingers on my glass. “This is fine for now.”

I was of two minds. Part of me wanted to down this drink, then another, then another, and let out whatever happened to be lurking in the deep recesses of my mind. Another part of me wanted to set aside the drink I currently had and approach my conversation stone-sober.

Before I could give the matter too much thought, I heard the familiar echo of heels clicking on the parquet floor. It was a sound from my childhood.

I swallowed, a tingle of nervous anticipation spreading outward from my stomach. Then I sensed the presence of someone in the room, someone behind me and out of sight.

“There’s my baby boy.”

I turned around in my seat and there she was—my mother.

Despite the years, she was just as larger-than-life and glamorous as I remembered her. She was dressed in a designer jumpsuit of black and gold, her silver hair in a stylish bob. She was as slim as ever—I’d always chalked her slender shape up to the fact that she was so constantly on the move that calories didn’t have a chance to stick to her.

“Mom,” I said, getting up.

She stepped over to me, martini glass in hand, and wrapped her skinny arms around me. The scent of expensive perfume was almost overpowering.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she said.

“Yeah, you too,” I said, realizing I meant it. Despite being more-or-less estranged from my mother, it felt good to be back home.

She let me out of her hug and stepped back, taking in the sight of me.

“Look at you,” she said, shaking her head. “Just the most handsome thing there is.” She reached down and took my hand, giving my left ring finger a close inspection. “Not married, I see.”

“Never one to mince words,” I said.

She let my hand drop back down to my side. “It’s just surprising, is all,” she said, stepping over to the French doors that looked out over the sweeping back porch and the garden beyond. “I would’ve thought a catch like you would’ve been snatched up years ago.”

“Not that you’d know if it happened,” I said.

She glanced over her shoulder at me, her piercing blue eyes narrowed. “Staying in touch is a two-way street, you know,” she said. “Nothing’s stopping you from picking up that phone.”

She was right, and I knew it.

“You always seemed too busy with your traveling all over the world and friends and all that,” I said.

“Justin, please,” she said. “Are you really going to scold a widow for keeping busy in her golden years? Would you rather I putter around in this mansion, watching TV and waiting to die?”

Again, she was right.

“I make sure to send you and other family and friends pictures of what I’ve been up to so you’d see that I’ve been happy and healthy and having fun in the years since your father passed. And there’s been nothing stopping you from replying to any of them, or—how about this—giving me a call.

“It’s hurt that you haven’t been in touch,” she went on. “And I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’ve been so distant. It’s like a part of me has been missing without you in my life, Justin.”

She waved her hand through the air, as if dismissing the subject. “But that doesn’t matter now. What’s important is that you’re here at home. But…” She tapped her French-manicured nail to her chin. “…I can’t help but wonder why. Any other mother would suspect that a child coming back after so long would only be doing so because they’ve hit rock bottom in one way or another. But not you, Justin—I’ve been keeping up on how successful you’ve been.”

“Been working hard, is all,” I said.

“No kidding,” she said, stepping away from the window and taking a seat in the high-backed, Second-Empire chair across from me. “You’ve even got a damned TV show. But don’t ask me how I liked it—TV rots your brain and reality TV turns it into mush. But that’s just one woman’s opinion.”

She took a sip from her drink, her ice-blue eyes locked onto me. Then she set it down, sat back in her chair, and folded her hands on her lap.

“But the question remains,” she said. “What is it that finally prompted little Justin to come home?”

I couldn’t think of any other way to say it. So I blurted it out.

“Was I unwanted?”

“What?”

My mother regarded me with an expression of total shock.

“What do you mean ‘unwanted’?” she asked.

I took a deep breath and went into it.

“I mean, did you and Dad plan on having me? And when you did, was I a burden?”

I shook my head and continued. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, thinking back to my childhood. And all I can remember is how you and Dad always kept me at arm’s length, how you both basically had me raised by nannies, how as soon as I turned thirteen you shipped me off to some boarding school like you couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I want to know if I was some mistake that you and Dad felt like you had to ‘deal with.’ Tell me, honestly—I’m a grown man, and I can take it.”

I took another slow breath, preparing for her to lay out the truth that yes, all of my suspicions were true.

Instead, the typically stern and icy expression Mom wore on her face melted into one of…hurt.

“Justin,” she said. “How—how could you even think that?”

Silence hung in the air.

“Of course not!” she said, her raised voice echoing through the living room. “You weren’t a burden—that’s total foolishness.”

Then she clasped her hands together.

“But you were unplanned—that much is true. Your father and I never intended to have kids. Back before we got married, we realized that us being such workaholics made us a good match but meant that we’d never have time for a family. So, we agreed that we’d be a power couple. He’d have his work, and I’d have mine. We’d build our legacy together and leave it to charity when we both passed—simple as that.”

“But then I showed up.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Back then birth control was a little less…certain than it is now, not to put too fine a point on it. You were a surprise, and at first, your father and I thought we might need to give you up—not because we didn’t love you, but because we thought it would be fairer to you to have a family that actually could give you the attention you deserved.”

“I see you changed your mind.”

“We did,” she said. “And it was the best decision of our lives. Seeing you the day you were born, holding you in my arms…it was like nothing else. At that moment, I realized how magical motherhood was.”

She cleared her throat and sat up straight. “But your father and I knew that one child was all we could manage. And we still needed to work. So, we decided that nannies could fill in the gaps. And then when you grew up, we wanted you to have the best damn education there was, so we sent you to boarding school, then private college after that.”

My mother looked me over, taking in the sight of me.

“And it wasn’t all bad, right?” she asked. “Look at you—you’re a success. You’re a damned billionaire!”

She shook her head. “But I guess it wasn’t enough. We never thought about what effect raising you the way we did would have. Even now, I can tell that there’s a hole in you that you have no idea how to fill.”

“There’s more,” I said. “I didn’t just out of the blue come here.”

“More?” she asked, sculpted eyebrows rising. “What is it?”

“There’s a girl…”

A small smile played on Mom’s lips.

“A girl,” she said. “Of course, there is.”

“And she’s pregnant.”

Mom’s jaw dropped.

“You mean…I’m going to be a grandmother?”

I nodded, unable to resist smiling at the happiness forming on her face.

“That’s right.”

Mom clapped her hands together, let out a shriek, and ran over. She threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly.

“My baby’s going to be a father!” she cried. “We have to celebrate. Go out onto the balcony and wait for me.”

With that, she left the room in a rush. I did as she asked, stepping through the French doors and walking to the edge of the balcony, taking in the incredible view of the estate. It wasn’t long before Mom came out, two glasses of champagne in her hands and a big smile on her face.

But I wasn’t feeling all that celebratory.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, handing me a glass.

“I—I’m scared,” I said. “I’m worried I’m going to screw this poor kid up and make him or her do the same thing to me that I did to you and Dad.”

“Baby,” she said. “You won’t. Parents learn as they go, and already you know how important it is that you make up for the mistakes me and your father made. Give that child love every day, make sure they know how important they are.”

She raised her glass. “I know you have it in you to be a wonderful father. And I want to be there to see it. Is…that okay?”

I nodded. I knew it would take time and work, but right then I was ready to start repairing the relationship with my mother that I’d let rot. It wouldn’t be easy, but I was ready.

“Yes,” I said. “I’d like that. And I think Heather would too.”

Mom’s eyes went wide.

“Is that the girl? Justin, I want to know all about her. But first—”

She wiggled the glass in her hand. I smiled and tapped my rim to hers before taking a sip.

“Now Heather,” she said. “She’s pretty right? What am I saying—of course she’s pretty. And I bet she’s a real sweetheart like you. Something tells me that you’ve got some gorgeous girl who loves you to death and is going to be the best mom in the world.”

And on we went.

My mom was back in my life. One thing was set straight, one wound was beginning to heal.

Now onto the other.