She had a point; I was probably imagining red flags that didn’t exist.“I know it’s entitled of me to want to know everything, but ...it feels like he’s excluding me, and I can’t understand why.”
“And you’ve been upfront with him about all the stuff in your life?”
“Well, there’s not muchtome.I’ve never traveled anywhere, and until Armand I’d only ever been with one person.”All I have to complain about is a dead dad and one bad breakup.Whoop-de-do.“I’ve had it really easy in comparison.”
Mom hummed thoughtfully.“Are you saying you wish there were more skeletons in your closet?”
I joined her in leaning on the fence, scratching at the weather-worn wood with a fingernail.“Kind of.I can’t help thinking that if there were, it would make us even.But it’s worked out that part of my job is interviewing him.I learn more about him,andit gives me an excuse to hang out with him.Win-win.”
She pursed her lips, which was never good.“Lucas, you know you don’t need an excuse to spend time with your boyfriend, right?That’s a normal part of dating someone who—”
“Who likes you back.”Memories slammed into my chest: needing to practically beg Darren for his attention, somehow knowing, implicitly, that if I wasn’t the one to make plans for us, then it wouldn’t happen.Spending,wasting, so many years making my boyfriend my whole personality.
I ran my hands over my head, coming to rest on the back of my neck.Anxiety prickled my skin.“It’s happening again, isn’t it?Maybe Darren was right: I’m too shallow.”
Mom chucked a handful of hay in my face.“Lucas Anthony Barclay, Darren has never been right about anything ever in his whole sorry life, so jot that down.”
“But”—the thoughts had taken root and were snowballing into a full spiral—“I’m finally traveling and taking risks and I wanted to do this social media gig, but is me doing all this making my whole life about Armand?”Another horrible thought joined the fray.“Even the job I have back home is working at the ranch thatyouown, so when you think about it, do I have anything that’s actually mine?”I was going to pass out.
“Whoa, Lucas, slow down.”Mom’s voice was a little hazy mid-spiral, but she moved closer so I had no choice but to meet her eye.“What about your photography?You’re about to launch your very first professional exhibition with a world-renowned curator.What are youtalkingabout, you silly boy.”She pulled me down to her level and squeezed me tight, stroking my hair like the whiny baby I was.“Figuring yourself out takes time.”
Easier said than done, but my mom was very convincing, even when she was wrong.I squeezed her back.“Guess I gotta learn from the best.”
“You’re goddamn right.Be the girlboss you wish to see in the world.”
“Okay, but don’t ever say that again.”
She reached up to tweak my nose, then snorted at something in the distance.“We should probably save your beau from himself, huh.”
Sure enough, Armand was power-walking away from a clique of three—nowfour—elderly horses who’d imprinted on him and were following him around, seeking attention Armand seemed reluctant to give.Armand, you lovely, absolutely ridiculous man.
“Yeah, he’s in grave danger.”I snickered, and we brushed ourselves off as best we could before linking arms and heading back the way we’d come.We caught up to Armand; he was hunched outside the ranch’s main office, probably assuming that was the only safe and horse-less place to hide.I gave my mom one more hug for the road.“It was so good to see you, Mom.I know I haven’t been gone long but I missed you.You look amazing.”
Mom hugged me around the middle.“Right?British food is so gross, I’m barely eating anything.”Then she turned to Armand, who only slightly wilted under her stare.“Take care of my boy, Mr.Demetrio.”It was as playful as it was threatening.
Armand swallowed, cheeks coloring.“Of course.I will.Of course I will.”
She offered him a hug, which he shyly accepted, and proceeded to squeeze the life out of him as well.“I look forward to seeing more of you.I’ll be at the exhibition, so if you hear some tasteless, rowdy cheers amongst the stuffy art elite, that’s me.”
The thought of my mom being there—of her flying all the way out here to see my photos in an exhibition—was sweet, but surreal and anxiety-inducing.It was one thing to crash and burn, embarrassing myself in front of strangers, but in front of Mom?Who already knew all too well how prone I was to deluding myself, of making up my own reality, of being too romantically naive for my own good?
I scratched at my knuckles the whole ride back to Armand’s apartment.
My mind was still miles away when we stepped inside and I, on account of receiving hay to the face, opted for a shower.I loofah’d hard enough to burn, the faces of all the people I could potentially disappoint spinning through my head like a PowerPoint: Armand, Mom, Jean, Ichika, Patricia Yang for being mentioned in the same sentence as an amateur like me, Robin and Skyler, though why would they care?
Panic was shortening my breaths, so I quickly ran through a list of my kitchen spices in alphabetical order to ground myself.Get it together, Barclay—allspice, basil, bay leaf, cardamom, cinnamon, dill weed ...
The hot water—once therewassome to speak of—did wonders, and I felt marginally more human when I’d gotten into cozy pajamas and stepped back out into the living room.Once there, I stood face-to-face with Armand holding an enormous platter of chocolate cake.
He cleared his throat.“Surprise.”
I gaped.“What’s this for?We already had my birthday.And yours too.”
Armand rolled his eyes fondly.“Your first exhibition, love?”
I stepped closer, the devilishly tempting scent of sugar, honey, and chocolate filling the small apartment.“When did you make this?I think I would’ve noticed you baking another giant chocolate cake.”
Armand dropped his gaze sheepishly.“The other day when you were out.I hid it across the way with Winnie for safekeeping.”
