Free A Perfect Love by Hot Tree Editing, Becca Lee, Lm Creations

to focus, and look at the positive, that always managed to keep me grounded.
    Forgetting was impossible. It was the moving on which had been the hardest. Dealing with the reality of the pain and heartache had been destructive. Love was the only glue able to provide the strength to put me back together. I wasn’t like new, and I wasn’t exactly shiny and sparkly, but I was solid and whole.
    I was so caught up in trying to ignore my feelings and reality, which I completely sucked at, that I didn’t even see my mum sit next to me.
    “I spoke to Liam.”
    My awareness of Mum knowing about the letter sent a jolt of pesky reality through me. I nodded without looking at her and took a sip of my tea. I crunched on an ice cube, enjoying the coolness, and the fact that the volume blocked out the world around me, even though it was for a fraction of time.
    “I’m here when you’re ready.” I nodded once again and returned the squeeze of her hand she gave me. “Just know, we’re here and we’ll do whatever you want or need.” I gulped, swallowing my bubbling emotions. “You know Tony Trovalusci from your dad’s old work?”
    Turning to her, I raised a brow in question. I knew who he was. Tiny Tony was a funny, old Italian guy. He was crazy tall and really sweet. I had no idea why she made the bizarre subject change.
    “Well, I’m pretty convinced he has mafia connections.” I coughed on the fresh ice cube I was chewing on. “No, truly,” she continued, ignoring my choking. “If I need to, I can always talk to him. I’m sure I could organise a hip or something on him.”
    Hysteria swept through me. Visions of old Italian guys taking people out with their steel-reinforced hip replacements filtered through my mind. This was a complete contrast to my horror of my mum being deadly serious. Containing the laughter bubbling in my chest, I managed to speak. “Holy crap, Mum. Hit . It’s called a hit.”
    “A hit? Right.” She grabbed her bag off the side, rifled through and pulled out a pen and her notepad. “ Hit . Okay, what else do I need to know? Is ‘pop a cap’ right?”
    “Shit, Mum. No.” I tore the notepad out of her hands, this time my laughter flying out of my body. It was loud and high-pitched, and it made me jump and clamp my hand over my mouth. “God, Mum,” I wheezed. “You can’t go round saying Tiny Tony is mafia just because he’s Italian.”
    She raised her brows at me. “No, Jo, I’d never do that. But I’m pretty sure I overhead him at the office once saying something about needing his driveway concreted. He ended it with ‘capiche’. I’ve watched a few movies in my time. I know that’s code for something.”
    It was too much. I grabbed the tea towel off the side, shoved it between my legs and raced to the bathroom. I had no idea if I was going to make it in time, but holy shit, my mum was making me piss myself.
    Sitting on the toilet, remarkably relieved I wouldn’t have to ask to borrow any spare undies or maybe a Tena Lady, I called out to Mum, “All it means is ‘do you understand’, Mum. It’s not code.” I shook my head as I flushed the toilet and washed up. I had no idea where my mum came up with half of the stuff she did. She was far from unintelligent. She’d had a really successful business over the years, so much so, she had been able to sell and retire early. Nope, she was far from dumb. A genuine smile plastered my face. This was exactly the reason why I needed to see Mum. My wonderful, crazy-arsed mum.
    “Thank you,” I said, bumping shoulders with her as I sat down.
    She leaned over and pulled me into an embrace, tight and familiar. Kissing my head, with her lips against my hair, she whispered, “Anytime, sweetie, but you think carefully about what I’ve said. Anything.” I nodded as she moved away, a smile still sitting contently on my face.
    “So…” she said, standing and making her way to the cupboard. She opened the door and removed a VHS. “This