“What? It’s just a bite of bacon.”
“Please don’t feed him from the table or island.”
“Okay, fine,” she says, ruffling Henry’s head like I’ve offended him with my rules.
“Bacon is poison for dogs,” Mia pipes up. “You could kill him, Nana.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Mom says. “That’s an old wives’ tale. I’ve been giving my dogs bacon for years.”
“And they all died,” Mia observes flatly.
Mom hoots with laughter. “You’ve got me there.”
“Let’s hustle,” I tell Mia. “Brush your teeth and grab your backpack.”
“Are you driving me?” she asks.
“She misses you,” Mom says, unhelpfully.
“I am driving you,” I smile at Mia. “And … bonus! I’m taking you to baseball practice, too.”
“Yippee!” she shouts, heading toward her room. “You can meet Coach G. Don’t worry if he doesn’t smile at you. He’s nice without smiling.”
“She’s not wrong,” Mom says. Again with the wagging eyebrows.
“Not happening,” I tell my mom.
“I don’t see why not. You’ve been single for six years. That seems like long enough.”
I huff out a short snort of a laugh. “Okay. First of all, I didn’t know there was a timeline on these things. And secondly, I just moved here. I’m getting settled into my new job. It’s not time to bring a man into the picture. You saw Mia this morning. She’s adjusting too. I don’t need to rock her world any more than I already have.”
“You can rock her world as much as you need to.” Mom wags a finger at me. “You’re a good mom. She’s not fragile. And one day, she’s going to move out and get her own life. You’ll wish you had listened to me then.”
“Just like I have my own life?” I send my mom a playful look.
She shakes her head in amusement and probably a shred of frustration.
“I have a few minutes before Mia moves out. I think I’m good,” I say, but Mom’s words sting like a light pinch. She doesn’t mean them to—or maybe she does.
“Who’s moving?” Mia asks, appearing in the kitchen doorway.
“No one you know,” I say, shooting a warning glance at my mother. “We’re all just settling here.”
Though, maybe my mom will be moving out in the next month or so. A girl can dream. I love her, but having herunderfoot—and the large beast she brought with her—is a bit much.
“I’m going out,” Mom announces when I grab my keys and purse.
“Oh?”
“Yes. Coffee with a friend.”
“A friend?”
“I make friends,” she says with a sassy look in my direction that makes her look a lot like me as a teen girl. “You should try it sometime.”
Henry Cavill walks up to me and stands at my side. The gesture is oddly grounding. I ruffle his white, moppish hair. “I don’t need friends. I have you and Henry.”
“You can call him Daddy,” Mia says, giggling.
