Free Slow Burn: A Texas Heat Novel by Octavia McKenzie

the underground tube station to Notting Hill Gate.
    The house had soaring columns, walls of clinging ivy and gardens. Harper opened the ornate iron-gate. She raised the brass knocker.
    A maid answered the door. “Hi-ya,” she said. “How can I help?”
    Harper squared her shoulders. “I’m here to see Mrs. Carrington.”
    “Who may I say is calling?”
    “A friend of her son’s.”
    Minutes later, Harper was ushered into a stately room with floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a small greenhouse full of roses and herbs.
    Donavan’s mother stood frozen in the center of the room. She was still a stunningly beautiful woman in her late fifties. She wore a Scottish wool jumper with a long tweed skirt and leather boots. Her silver blond hair was meticulously styled in a feathered bob.
    Harper had no idea she rudely stared. Subconsciously, she hungrily searched Cynthia’s features for traces of Donavan’s likeness. She had his nose and bold profile. Everything else was Allister McClain’s.
    “Harper? Harper Grant?” she asked in shock. “How on earth did you find me?”
    “I just googled ‘selfish bitch’ and bam, your address popped right up.”
    Cynthia clasped her jeweled hands. “Guess I had that coming, won’t you sit down for tea and refreshments?”
    Harper walked straight up to her. She towered over the older woman.
    “Are you going to hit me?”
    “I’d like to,” Harper said.
    “You really are magnificent, no wonder Donnie was so fascinated with you.”
    “How could you leave him?” Harper asked brokenly.
    Cynthia blanched. She quickly recovered. “I never understood why wives and moms leave until I became one of them.”
    “Yeah it must’ve been tough having a husband who worshiped you, a son who adored you, going to the country club every day, never worked a day in your life, boo hoo for you.”
    “If you must know, I fell in love with a woman.”
    Harper’s jaw dropped. Whatever lame excuse she expected it wasn’t that. “Oh.”
    “Care for some tea?”
    Harper shook her head. Cynthia sat down on a plush love seat. She poured herself a cup and eyed Harper over the rim of bone china.
    Harper knew she looked like something the cat dragged in, clawed over and puked up. She wore a long sleeved navy hoodie and jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. No makeup. Her face pinched with fear and worry. She looked at Cynthia head on.
    “I knew that the scandal would make life harder for Donavan. I was married to a good man but Allister is a powerful CEO, he would’ve destroyed me and fought for custody of Donavan. It would’ve been a messy divorce. I couldn’t do that to my son.”
    “So you abandoned him instead, without explanation?” Harper asked. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt him?”
    Cynthia winced. “Do you think leaving him was easy?” she asked. “Look around you Miss Grant.” Cynthia gestured. Harper rose to her feet. She walked up to the marble fireplace. On the wide mantle were framed pictures of Donavan from infancy to age ten. Harper’s heart lurched. “He looked like this when I met him,” she whispered, “Hair so blond it was nearly white, a head full of curls,” Harper said wistfully. She pointed to another frame. “Oh I remember that one, third grade Halloween party. That’s why I called him Thor because of the costume.”
    Cynthia chuckled. “He came home and complained bitterly about you. Mom, Harper Grant drives me crazy, he used to say. It was always Harper this and Harper that and mom you’ll never believe what Amazon did to me today.”
    The last picture captured his half smile, dimpled grin. It was Harper’s undoing. She spun away from the pictures and stood by the windows facing the garden. Her body shook uncontrollably.  
    “I shouldn’t have come,” Harper said. “I still think you should’ve found a way but I can’t judge.” Harper hugged herself to stop the tremors. “It’s just that I would’ve done anything to be