How to Destroy a Rich Boy

Chapter Fifty-Five

I cleared my throat and held my phone up to my ear. "Hey, mum," I called out. 

"Hey, Sophie, how's my baby?" my mum croaked into the phone.

 I smiled a little, relieved that her voice sounded a little clearer than the last time we spoke. Ever since she started chemo, she's always got some sort of cold or another. 

"Your baby's fine. She's fully recovered from chucking herself off the side of a horse, if you were wondering," I snorted as I flopped down on the sofa.

I quickly released my mistake when she let out a sharp breath. "I still can't believe you didn't even tell me you went to Greece. I could literally kill you," she snapped into the phone. 

I flinched away from the phone with a wince. "Yeah, I know, I know. I'm sorry, okay," I mumbled as I sunk lower down on the sofa.

"Anyway, enough about that. Tell me about your date, your father told me you went on one yesterday?" she asked, her voice lively with excitement.

I paused and brought my mind back to that date. It literally couldn't have gone any worse. Not only did I ditch my date, but then I proceeded to fuck around with another guy at the back of the club and then proceed to give that guy my bra. 

Oh, and just to make it even more ridiculous, I managed to convince my date that I was into incest too.

Of course, I couldn't tell my mum that, so instead, I anxiously cleared my throat. "It was good, but I er...don't think it's going to work out," I said slowly, deciding to leave it at that.

 "Wait, what? What do you mean? I thought it was with Nathan?" she rambled out in confusion.

I shook my head frantically despite the fact she couldn't see me. "No, absolutely not. Nathan and I are friends," I corrected quickly. 

"Oh, I thought he was- oh, never mind," she said slowly, a heavy layer of disappointment to her tone.

"Mum, you don't have to sound so disappointed, you're making me feel guilty," I whined into the phone. 

"Well, you should be, I saw him on face-time, and he looked cute as hell. Can't you tell a good baby daddy when you see one?" she snapped out frustratedly. 

My eyes widened at the re-emergence of baby talk. "Why the fuck do you keep talking about me having babies with him. It's starting to creep me out," I cried. "

Why can't I?" she argued.

"Because he's not my boyfriend!" I yelled into the phone.

 She let out a weird half grumble, half-whine as though she was having a tantrum, and then ignored me. Let's say my mum was a little bit too invested in my love life...

Deciding to change the topic, I cleared my throat. "Anyway, mum, do you...do you... know if you're going to be able to go home for Christmas?" I asked softly with a heavy amount of caution to my tone. I tried not to sound too hung up on the question, but I couldn't help it. I really wanted her home. It wasn't Christmas without her.

"Oh my god, I completely forgot to tell you. They're letting me go home, honey. They say I'm responding so much better to the treatment, isn't that great?" She squealed. 

"Wait, what?" I screamed as I jumped off the sofa in excitement. "This is amazing, I can't believe-Oh my god, I told you mum, see, I told you you'd be fine," I rambled out with a Cheshire-sized grin on my face.

I heard my mum laugh through the phone. "Sophie, they said it was getting better, not that I was cured," she chuckled. 

"Shhh, let me have this moment," I snapped scodingly into the phone.