We both laughed. And just like that, the tension eased. We sank into the loveseat, close but still not touching, talking about our moms like we were longtime friends. Their strange boundaries, the way they both tried to protect us while being lovingly—maddeningly—manipulative.
“You heard about everyone on the bus knowing everything? And…Babs?” I asked.
“Yeah, I heard.” He took a sip from his mug, then looked at me and didn’t look away. “You know that I would’ve said something if I’d known.”
“I know.” I nodded, no hesitation. “Of course, you would’ve. I just felt so…exposed, I guess. Like I’d been in a fishbowl the whole time. Speaking of which, how are Jumbo and Plink, by the way?”
“The same.” He didn’t elaborate. Of course, he knew there was more.
“Babs meant well—I know that—and Mom said it was her idea. But still, Babs went along with it. She kept the secret.” I tucked a knee up toward my chest, absently tracing the rim of my mug. “But I’m trying to see the whole picture, not just how it felt in the moment.”
He tilted his head. “So, what now?”
“I’ve had some good talks with my mom since I’ve been back.” An understatement, really. “I think we both understand each other better now. And it’s better, even if we’re a work in progress.”
I glanced at him, watching the corners of his mouth twitch—listening but also processing.
“My mom loves me,” I added. “And I think she’s starting to realize that loving me means letting me make my own choices. Even if they’re mistakes.”
He gave a small nod, then sighed. “Yeah, I think I’ve got some conversations to have with my mom too.”
“Maybe there’s a support group for moms who love too hard.” He sent me a sideways glance.
That earned me a soft laugh. “Meddlers Anonymous?”
“Exactly. Step one is admitting you can’t control your adult child.”
“Right.” He closed his eyes for a second and exhaled through his nose. “She went way too far, though. And I won’t let that kind of thing happen again. Ever."
His voice was low, serious. Like maybe he was defending something precious—me?
It felt like an apology but also a promise.
"Boundaries," I said, like an echo, my voice soft.
“Yeah.”
“I won’t hold it against her, you know,” I added. “If she hadn’t made you go on that trip, I never would have met you.”
He raised the mug to his lips again, still eyeing me over the rim, like he couldn’t deprive himself of looking at me for another second. I was probably looking at him the same way.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” I told him earnestly. “I thought…”
“I know.” He gave a wry, twisted little smile. “And I can’t help but think I could have done something, caught you at the airport?—”
But I was already shaking my head. “I’m not sure it would have changed anything. I’d just found out that everyone on that trip had been lying to me the whole time; it felt like everything was so unstable, and I couldn’t trust anyone. Maybe it would’ve changed how I reacted, but maybe not. And now…” I shrugged. “I guess we’ll never really know for sure.”
“No, I guess not.” Those stormy eyes of his seemed to be deep in thought.
To be honest, though, it didn’t matter much to me anymore, the could’ve, would’ve, should’ves. I’d missed him, of course I had…but maybe I’d needed this time to put my life back together before I let somebody else into it.
“You said you wanted more than a fling.” I licked my lips and watched his pupils dilate, the gray shrinking to just a thin ring, his gaze unwavering. “What does…that look like exactly?”
We were close now. Our knees almost touching, his hand flexed against his thigh, like he was holding himself back.
And me? My skin was practically buzzing, and I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the coffee. More to do with the way his eyes kept dropping to my lips.
He was trying to be polite. Respectful.
