“And how’s your chest?”
She waved a hand at me. “I’m watching TV. Can you be quiet?”
Unless I heard her coughing, it was hard to tell if her chest was okay or not. I put the teakettle on anyway. There was non-caffeinated tea, especially the fruit tea. I could also go for one myself. I needed something warm to help me think right.
Rocco wanted me to leave, he also wanted to fuck me senseless, but more than anything, he wanted me to leave. And I’d thought he’d never let me go. I knew I should be grateful that he let me live, and that he’d found me attractive, but most of all, I was glad and surprised he’d let me call him Daddy—then acted like one as well, from the way he replied with agood boy, and his soft touches were so delicate compared to how brooding and masculine he actually was.
“What’s going on?” my mom asked, appearing behind me in the kitchen.
“Jeez.” I turned, hand on my chest. “Why are you walking so quietly?”
She laughed. “I called your name,” she said. “I’ll have a tea, but only if it’s that strawberry one.” She hugged her long cardigan around herself. “So, where did you go?” Her brows were up her forehead, wiggling. “Is it a boy?”
“A boy,” I scoffed.
“Fine, a man, whatever,” she said, gesturing with a hand at the comment. “I only just saw the time when I paused my programs. You’ve been gone for hours. And it was raining earlier. So I don’t think you were walking through that.”
She had this uncanny ability to read me, a blessing and a curse, and perhaps also one of the reasons I’d become good at actively lying. As long as you blended a little bit of the truth into it, people were easy to fool. “I—” She continued to stare at me and smiled. “It was a guy, and it was nothing.”
“Sounds like something, actually,” she said.
“Well.”
The teakettle whistled, almost saving me from her grilling. Almost.
“Go on,” she said. “Who is he? What does he do? Am I going to get my sofa back?”
There it was: the reason she wanted me to have found someone. “It’s nothing,” I said. “And you’re not getting your sofa back until we’ve been to your doctor’s appointment on Monday and they tell me what’s going on with you and your lungs.”
She rolled her eyes. “I could take myself.”
“Ma, you missed your last appointment,” I said, softer. “I’m here because you need me. And I know you might not think that, and I really do know it’s intrusive, but remember all those times you said to me as a kid, ‘Kalen, you better look after me when I’m older.’”
Looking away, I didn’t know if she was going to cry or completely change her mood. “Well, I know your job is important,” she said. “And if it wasn’t, then I’d be fine with you being here.”
“Well, I’m—” I couldn’t tell her about Rocco, or the Bianchi family. I knew there were rumors on the street, and I doubt she even knew what they looked like considering shebarely got outside, but she would’ve heard the gossip. At least, she would’ve when she’d lived closer to her friends.
“Finish what you were saying,” she said, playfully hitting my arm. “If you tell me you’re quitting your really nice job to be closer to me, I think I’ll have to march you to whatever headquarters I’ve got to and tell them you temporarily lost your mind.”
I chuckled, pulling her into my arms and hugging her. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said, really squeezing me. I didn’t do the same back. I was far too conscious of the effect that might have on her lungs. “Now, pour me some tea, and let me know all about this man you went on a date with.”
There was only so much I could tell her, and it definitely wasn’t a date, but for her benefit, and maybe mine, mentally I would be embellishing little details to make sure it wasn’t going to make the whole ordeal sound crazy. I’d been in similar situations before, but most of those situations were through training exercises, and I absolutely could navigate them, but this wasn’t like any of those at all.
In the living room, over our steaming cups of tea, my mom continued to prod with questions about my love life. She wanted every little detail, and I really wanted to tell her everything. I liked it when she was like this, it made being an adult bearable.
“He’s just a guy,” I said, nearly scalding my tongue on the hot water.
“Is he the reason you’ve been coming in late?” she asked. “I know you mentioned your job and stuff, but c’mon, I’m your mom. I know better than whatever you’re telling me.”
“A little, maybe.” I should’ve bitten my tongue with the way she was getting this information out of me. “It’s nothing, though, really. I live in New York, and he’s here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. You drive. It’s not too far away. Or there’s some great transport links.”
I shook my head. “It’s not even that.”
As she gasped, I nearly jumped into action, thinking something was wrong. She placed her mug of tea on a crochet coaster on the coffee table. “I know,” she said. “I know why you’re apprehensive.”
