I tugged at my hair. “I don’t really wanna get into it.”
“Terry Munson told me her daughter ran into you there.”
Shit. Big mouth Langley.
I lay back on the bed and sighed. “She did, did she?”
“Yes.”
My mother fell silent, and I knew she was holding back.
I rolled my eyes. “What else did she tell you?”
“She said you were quite cozy with someone half your age.”
I shook my head. “She should mind her own business.”
“So it’s true?”
“I did meet someone who’s younger, yeah. A sweet person who deserves better than to be reduced to her age. Nothing happened between us, if that’s what you’re getting at. It was mostly innocent. We had fun together. That was all. She got my mind off my troubles for a bit. And now she’s checked out. The story ends there.”
That did pretty much sum it up, even if the reality was much more complex in my mind.
“How old was she?”
“Almost twenty.”There I go again.
“Well, you know I was around that age when I met your father,” Mom said. “But people don’t settle down soyoung these days. If she were the right person for you, though, I wouldn’t discourage it just because she’s young.”
That didn’t make me feel any better about my decisions. I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Are you going through some kind of midlife crisis?”
I had to laugh at that. “I’m not mid-life, Mom.”
“Not yet, at least.” She paused. “Anyway, what’s wrong with Langley? She’s always liked you.”
Langley was the furthest thing from what I wanted.
“There’s nothing wrong with her. I’m just not interested.”
“You’ve always been picky.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being selective.”
“Have you been in touch with Taylor?”
“No, but I plan to call him when I get home. If you speak to him, don’t mention that I’m here. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea and think I chose to come to the Keys rather than visit him. I just needed to clear my head before I came home.”
“I haven’t mentioned it,” she said.
Staring up at the ceiling, I murmured, “I’m long overdue to visit him, even if he doesn’t want to see me.”
“You have to stop worrying about whether or not hewantsto see you,” she scolded. “He justthinkshe doesn’t want to see you—or more likely, he pretends not to want to see you. But he’s starving for that connection with his dad.”
I ran my hand through my hair. “I hope you’re right.”
“You, my son, sound like you got run over by a truck.”
