It’s over much too soon, although I’m breathless and panting when he pulls back, grinning at me. I want to swat him on the arm and make some joke about how he’s a tease. I also want to tug him back in for another kiss, just as hot as that last one.
But instead, I just stare at him as an incredible warmth builds up in my chest. Slowly, I reach up and touch his cheek, watching as the tips of my fingers graze along the light stubble on his jawline. Then I take a deep breath and lift my eyes to his.
“Definitely later,” I say, and my lips twist up into a smile that matches his.
He huffs a small laugh, his cheeks turning pink, and he ducks his chin. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“’Kay.”
With obvious reluctance, he steps away from me, and as he finishes undressing, I slip out of the bathroom, take a moment to steady myself, and then jog down the stairs.
Just as he said, his mom is making blueberry waffles. She’s got a platter of them already cooked, sitting next to a plate heaped with scrambled eggs, and she’s pouring what looks like the last cupful of batter into her waffle iron. She glances up at me as I reach the bottom of the stairs, her smile as welcoming as always.
“Good morning! Hope you’re hungry,” she says in greeting, motioning to the platter on the counter. “Waffles, eggs, and I think we’ve got OJ in the fridge still, unless Alex drank the last of it yesterday.”
“Ah, um, I did, actually,” I admit, frowning. “Sorry, I—”
“No worries,” she interrupts, closing the lid on the waffle iron. “We do have milk, and I made some coffee too.”
“Coffee sounds great.”
She smiles. “Help yourself.”
I do—pouring myself a cup of coffee, then helping her move the food from the counter to the kitchen table, careful to carry things only in my right hand since the injury to my shoulder has my whole arm feeling weak. Not more than a few minutes later, she sits down next to me, giving me a silly look as I smother all of my food in an excessive amount of syrup. I just grin back, and she laughs.
The waffles are delicious, and I make sure to tell her that. She thanks me and then asks what my week looks like and whether I have any plans outside of work. It’s small talk, which I usually hate. But somehow, she makes it easy.
I’ve never been able to say that before.
We chat for a few more minutes, and then there’s a brief silence as I finish the last bites of my syrup-covered eggs. From upstairs, I hear the water shut off in the shower, and I pull out my phone toglance at the time. We’ve still got fifteen minutes before we have to leave, which should hopefully give Alex enough time to eat.
His mom must be thinking the same thing, because she says, “He’s driving you in, right?”
I stuff my phone into my pocket and look back up at her. Does she know? Or rather,how muchdoes she know?
Her eyes are soft with understanding, but they’re sort of always like that.
Alex probably hasn’t told her. In fact, I’m not even sure he’s told her aboutus. I blink and look down. Does she know abouthim?
“Um, yeah. I hope... I hope that’s not a problem?” I can’t look back up to see, though I’m not really sure why. But she answers right away.
“No problem at all.”
I can hear the same soft understanding in her voice, and I purse my lips and nod slightly. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Really.”
My chest tightens. “I appreciate it. Everything, actually. I appreciate it all so much,” I say, my voice catching. “Did... did Alex tell you why I don’t have my car anymore?”
“No, he didn’t,” she replies softly, and I almost hear her unspoken words as well. She doesn’t need me to tell her. She doesn’t need a reason to want to help me.
That’s both a relief and painful at the same time—to know that I have her support and yet to be reminded again of my mom’s abandonment.
I glance up at her, meeting her eyes for the briefest of seconds. Then I stare at my half-empty coffee mug, and my heart cracks. I hold back the tears I let Alex see yesterday morning. But I tell her the truth.
“When I showed up to pay my mom for the car on Friday afterwork, she wasn’t there,” I start, doing the best I can to keep my voice steady. “Patrick was. Her... her ex-husband. He told me she increased the price of the car to twelve hundred dollars. A-and since I didn’t have the money, he took the keys. She...” I close my eyes and shake my head. “She never told me the price changed. And she knew I didn’t have that kind of money.”
“Oh, Nico . . .”
