“Mom, I say this with all the love in the world, but this is my house, and what I do in it is my business,” I say, making sure my voice stays gentle. While she’s more than a little out of line, I’ve never actually drawn any boundaries like this with her. This is the first time she’s hearing it, so I owe it to her to be reasonable and kind. What happens from here is entirely up to her. “I’m happy to have you stay, though I hope you’ll give me a little more notice in the future so I can prepare. But it’s important to me that you understand that I’m an adult. I make my own choices.”
She opens and closes her mouth like a largemouth bass as she grapples with what I’ve just said. “I just don’t know what to say, Carson. We raised you better than this!”
“You raised her to be kind, thoughtful, generous, and hardworking. She’s fierce and tough and an incredible friend,” Dan says, and I don’t know if my mother can hear the tiniest sliver ofmenace in his voice, but I can. He threads his fingers through mine and gives my hand a squeeze. “You should be proud.”
My mother looks like she’s not sure how to respond. Her good manners require her to graciously accept the compliment while her Midwestern roots require her to eschew the flattery. In the end, she just nods and huffs out a flustered, “Well, okay, then.”
“What time are you headed out?” I ask.
“My Uber is on the way, actually,” she says, pulling out her phone and tapping the app.
“Well, I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend more time visiting,” I say, a polite Midwestern lie. I love my mother, but I’m learning that her visits are like fresh fish—after two days, they start to go bad. I hold my arms out for a hug, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s still flustered or because she’s decided to take my newly announced adulthood to heart, but she steps into them and embraces me. “Have a safe trip.”
“I will, honey,” she says, and when I start to pull back, she tugs me in tighter. “I’m sorry, Carson. This is…well, it’s a lot. I need to adjust, I think.”
She releases me as her phone dings, signaling the arrival of her driver. “It was good seeing you, Daniel,” she says, giving him a nod but refusing to meet his eyes.
“You as well, Mrs. Webber.”
She waves him off. “Oh, call me Donna,” she says, blushing again. “Well, I better scoot. I stripped the bed and put the sheets and towels in the washer. Don’t forget to move them to the dryer so they don’t mildew. I’ll talk to you soon, Carson, dear.”
And then she’s gone.
“Holy shit, my mother knows I had sex,” I mutter. The adrenaline drains away and I lean back against Dan’s chest, my heart pounding. I feel good about what just happened, though there is still enough of a church kid in me that there’s a little bit of guilt floating around in there.
“She took it well,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my hair. “Are you okay?”
I nod, then look up at him over my shoulder. “You stood up for me.”
He shrugs. “You stood up for yourself.”
“It was easy to do with you at my back.”
“I’ll always have your back, Carson,” he says, his lips going to that spot on my neck. “But you did the hard parts yourself.”
I want to see myself the way Dan sees me, and I like that in the moments when I don’t, he reminds me what I’m capable of.
“Take me back to bed?” I ask.
He groans. “I told Drake I’d open the shop this morning.”
“Make sure you clean that chair real good before anyone else sits in it,” I giggle.
“You sure you don’t want to come in for another?” he asks, nuzzling my neck with his nose. “I could give you a really sexy tramp stamp.”
“Yes, please, a butterfly right above my ass,” I laugh.
“Whatever you want,” he says. “But unfortunately, our extracurriculars will have to wait. The walls of those booths are pretty thin, so eating your pussy in the shop while it’s open is probably a bad idea.”
“Well, then, we should use whatever time you have before you head in wisely,” I say, dragging him back to his bedroom.
CHAPTER 34
CARSON
When Dan finally leaves for the shop after another round, I head straight for my parents’ old room, inspired to make a change. And that’s only a little bit because the futon mattress in the guest room is deeply uncomfortable. I was only able to get any sleep on it last night thanks to the ten thousand orgasms Dan gave me. I was positively worn out.
The primary bedroom is small and filled with oversize furniture. A queen-size mahogany sleigh bed takes up the majority of the space, and I start by pulling off the plaid comforter, folding it up, and placing it in a trash bag for donation. I take down the heavy velvet curtains on the two small windows, which brightens the room considerably. I check the city bulk pickup schedule on my phone so I know when to pull the mattress onto the curb. Then I take a picture of the bed and post it on Facebook Marketplace, free as long as the receiver picks it up. Same with the large dresser and mirror and matching end tables.
