I froze.
My eyes slid shut slowly.
This couldn’t be happening to me.
The sound of her voice echoed through the house like a foghorn.
I felt the coffee in my stomach surge dangerously and swallowed hard.
“Get in here, Maddox. Mummy is here!”
Deep breaths.
Just breathe.
When I heard Stella giggle, my eyes snapped open.
Oh, hell no.
I marched down the hallway and found them in the kitchen.
My mother looked perfect, as always. Not a hair out of place. Stella, on the other hand, sat with her hair piled high on her head, loose strands falling around her face. There was a cheeky grin plastered across it, but I could worry about that later.
“For shame, Maddox. Is this how I raised you? Marianne saw you out at dinner with this gorgeous girl and came gossiping to me. And there I was—I didn’t have a clue.”
I stepped forward, kissing Stella’s cheek before leaning over to kiss my mother’s.
“A terrible tragedy for you, Mum,” I drawled.
“You didn’t tell me that your mum was a therapist too,” Stella said, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Mum, where’s Dad?”
He was the only person she ever listened to.
“Ugh, golfing trip. So boring. He’ll be back tomorrow,” she said, lifting her glass of wine.
“I hope you aren’t meddling,” I warned.
“Tosh. When have I ever meddled?”
“When have you not,” I muttered.
“You never mentioned how delightful your mum is,” Stella added sweetly.
“See? She gets me.”
“She did happen to mention when you were four years old you always held onto your—”
“Mother! May I have a word with you in the other room, please?”
She took her wine with her.
God only knew how much she’d already drunk and what she’d told Stella.
I closed the living room door behind us.
“What did you tell her?”
