“Wren, wait.”
“It’s fine,” I call without turning back around.
The screen door slams, and then he calls my name again. Closer this time. He also grabs my arm, halting me in place before stepping in front of me. “My mom is still on a decorating kick. She wants to repaint the kitchen today. I promised her I’d help.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Otherwise, I would, okay?”
“Okay. I would have, uh, texted to see if you were free, but I don’t have your number.”
No way was I calling his house again.
A rare full grin appears. “If you want my number, Wren, ask for it.”
I roll my eyes again, secretly giddy. He’s flirting with me, I think. “I’m not asking for it. I was just explaining why?—”
“Sawyer?” A woman steps out of the front door, glancing around the yard. Surprise spreads on her face when she spots me.
I’m assuming she must be his mom, but she’s younger than I would have expected. Wearing no makeup and a paint-splattered shirt, she could pass for being in her late twenties.
“Hello,” she says pleasantly, walking over.
Sawyer clears his throat. “Mom, this is Wren. Wren, this is my mom.”
“Addison,” his mom says, smiling as she extends a hand to me. “I know they don’t look it, but they’re clean.”
“Hi,” I reply, smiling back as I shake her yellow-streaked palm. “It’s nice to meet you, Addison.”
“Very nice to meet you too, Wren.” She sounds like she means it, not only like it’s a common pleasantry.
His mom seems really great, and there’s a pinch in my chest as I think about what Sawyer has shared about his family, especially lastnight’s revelation. His dad’s destructiveness … his sister’s death. A betrayal by her husband and the loss of a child. I’ve been called fortunate and privileged and lucky my entire life, but I’ve never felt more so than I do right now, knowing I’ve never endured that sort of tragedy.
I hope my first impression didn’t involve Addison hearing me joke about blow jobs. I’m realizing that’s probably why Sawyer looked so uncomfortable when I did.
“Would you like to come inside?” Addison asks kindly.
“No, thanks. I was just leaving,” I respond, not wanting to trap Sawyer into having his mom host me or ruin their day together. “Sorry to come by so early. I work at the yacht club, so I knew Sawyer had the day off, and I was … he said you’re painting today. So, I was just leaving.”
You already said that.
“We can paint another day,” Addison comments, glancing at her son.
“It’s really fine,” I say quickly before Sawyer can utter a word.
“I haven’t even settled on a color,” she tells me. “And it’s a beautiful day. You kids go have some fun.”
“I’m eighteen, Mom,” Sawyer says dryly.
“Don’t remind me,” Addison replies, smiling at me again before she turns back toward the house. “I hope to see you again, Wren.”
“You too!” I call after her, then glance at Sawyer. He’s already looking at me. “I like your mom.”
“Me too.”
“You don’t have to change your plans.”
He shakes his head once, impatiently. “Do you want me to drive?”
