The rest of the walk, which was thankfully short, was conducted in silence. I was still debating the best way to bid him goodbye when a figure appeared on my walkway. I stopped moving the second I saw the familiar silhouette. I would recognize the long hair and goofy wave anywhere.
“Bree-Bree,” a singsong voice called out. “I’m here.”
She said it as if I should be grateful. I didn’t respond. I just stared, dumbfounded.
I felt rather than saw Brody’s gaze move to the side of my face. “Who is that?”
I didn’t blame him for being baffled. My mother didn’t dress like anybody else at the Landings. There were no muted colors for Sylvia James. She believed that red and pink didn’t clash and was more than happy to wear neon if the mood struck. That day, she was dressed in violent-purple leggings with what looked to be pumpkins on them—suggesting she’d gotten them from the Halloween clearance rack—and a turquoise top that fell off her shoulders. I knew without looking that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She never did.
“Bree-Bree!” she squealed when I didn’t immediately respond. “I’m here to see you like I said I would.”
She had said she was going to visit. My mother often said things like that and didn’t follow through. Oh, eventually, I knewshe would make her way to me—she would look up the Landings and figure out it was fertile hunting ground—but I’d expected at least a year to go by before I had to deal with her. If she was here now, that meant she was up to something.
“Mom.”
I didn’t know what else to say, mostly because I knew Brody was trying to absorb the change in my mood temperature. Sixty seconds before, I’d been sweating through my clothes. Now it felt as if a cold front had moved in. There was no way he would be oblivious to that.
“That’s your mother?” Brody’s full focus was on her, so he missed the furtive look I shot him.
It wasn’t that I was embarrassed of my mother—well, mostly—but I didn’t want to subject him to her. My mother was a lot. Even on a day when she’d promised to fly under the radar, she was too much. He’d grown up with a mother he still took walks with even though she was dead, because he just wanted to stay close to her. My mother would be way too much for him.
“Unfortunately,” I replied under my breath.
Brody was not a decisive guy. I’d figured that out even before we’d managed our truce. That was why he remained frozen at my side even as my mother hurried down the walkway in an attempt to intercept me for what I knew would be an overblown hug. My mother would fake a close relationship with me because she knew that would benefit her in the estimation of the people I surrounded myself with. She’d never met a situation she didn’t want to make more awkward.
To my surprise, Brody edged closer as if taking up a protective stance. Was he going to throw himself between my mother and me? It certainly felt like that might be his intention.
“Hello,” he said, drawing my mother’s attention to him. “I’m Brody Bates.” He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I had no idea what he was doing. Maybe he didn’t either. My mother, per usual, took stock of him immediately, her gaze lingering on what I knew were expensive shoes, and then pasted a bright smile on her face.
“Sylvia James.” She took his hand and enthusiastically pumped it. “I’m Bree’s mother.”
“I figured that out.” Brody had more charm than I’d ever seen oozing from him.
I realized he’d reverted to the boy who had to put on a show for his father. I hated that he felt he had to do it for my mother, yet I was grateful all the same because his distraction was allowing me to collect myself.
“Is this your boyfriend?” Mom gave Brody a coy look. “I certainly hope so because he is… well, he’s just the bee’s knees.”
I managed to hide my eye roll, just barely. “We’re friends—or colleagues,” I corrected, suddenly nervous. I cast a questioning look toward Brody.
He was calm under pressure, which threw me. “Friends. We’re friends.”
“Nothing more?” Mom seemed disappointed.
“Nothing more.” Brody’s hand landed on my back, which was miraculously no longer sweaty. He gave me his full attention. “I’m going to leave you with your mom if that’s okay.” The look he shot me promised he would stay if it wasn’t okay. “I mean, if that’s what you want.”
The last thing I wanted was to be alone with my mother. I would not subject him to the whims of Sylvia James, however.
“I’m good.” I managed a reassuring smile, although it took effort. “Don’t worry about me. I think my mother and I need to catch up.”
He hesitated a beat. When his hand left my back, I felt cold. “I’ll talk to you soon,” he promised as he started down the street.
I watched him go, nodding, then remembered he couldn’t hear a nod. “Yeah. We’ll talk soon.”
My mother pounced the second he was out of earshot. “He’s very good-looking. How long have you guys been together?”
There was no containing my sigh. My mother could exhaust me with just the promise of an unnecessary conversation. “We’re just friends, Mom. He’s another author.”
