He shrugs, then offers a slow, honest smile. “Something like…I wasn’t ready for you to see me like that,” he says, his voice gaining a sudden, steady firmness. “Because I wasn’t ready to face how many of my own rules I’d broken by letting you that close, that quickly. I knew I’d fall in love with you. I just didn’t realize it would bethiskind of love.”
I glance around, half-expecting someone to be staring, to have overheard something this big.
When I don’t respond to his declaration immediately, his thumb shifts against my hand. “How do you feel about that?”
A tear threatens. Damn hormones. Damn him.
“Fine. I broke the fucking rules. I love you too, Bear,” I say.
He leans in like he’s about to seal it with a kiss, and my phone buzzes between us.
The screen swims for a second, reminding me I am absolutely tipsy at two in the afternoon. I squint, then laugh when I see my mom’s text telling me she called the office and they said I’d left early.
I glance up at Eli. He’s watching me, brows drawn together, trying to read whatever’s happening behind my smile.
“So,” I say, breath a little uneven, “do you maybe want to come home with me? Meet my mom?”
Both brows shoot up. “Wow. I get to meet Mom, huh?”
I stand, grabbing my coat before I can overthink it. “Come on, Bear. I want to introduce my mom to the man who she says captured my coochie in Canada.”
Rules Are Rules
Eli
When I planned to come see her, I pictured Max showing me around her city. Maybe her favorite food spots. And I have to admit I even thought about what it would be like to meet her mom. To see if her mother would welcome me the same way mine welcomed Max. The way her mom brightens tells me everything I need to know.
Max’s mom’s place surprises me.
Not because it’s grand. It isn’t. It’s a modest townhome tucked into a brick building that reminds me of East Coast row homes. Stacked close together, shoulders brushing, and history pressed into the walls. But it’s beautiful in a way that feels lived-in and intentional. Cozy, but firm. Welcoming, but with boundaries.
Like Max.
Max stands beside me, like a teenage girl bringing a boy home for the first time. “Mom,” she says, formal but proud, “this is Eli.”
Her mother just beams at first and I see the space feels likeher too.
Warm light spills from mismatched lamps. Framed Black art leans instead of hanging perfectly straight, like it demands to be acknowledged when you walk into the room.
There are books everywhere. Plants that look both loved and decorative, somehow managing to be practical and pretty at the same time. The place smells like citrus cleaner and something else I can’t quite name—comfort, maybe.
I stretch out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you—”
“Tonya,” she offers with a bright smile.
I nod. “Ms. Tonya, It’s lovely to meet you. You have a beautiful home.”
“Isn’t he pretty, Mommy?” Max sings, and we all burst up laughing.
I see it immediately. This is where Max comes to exhale. The transformation is fascinating as she settles in, her guarded edges smooth out and her jokes flow unfiltered.
She reaches for her mother’s sweet tea on the coffee table, taking a deep gulp while her mom watches with a silent, indulgent smile.
This is Max unarmored and it does something to me, seeing her like this—witnessing the version of her that isn’t busy managing the room. She’s just…home.
I love that this place exists for her.
But the thought that follows is a bit forward. Selfish, even.
