“What, right now?” I ask.
“Benjamin. You just told me you met a man who held your hand on a patio and said he missed you. I’m your mother and I want to see his face.”
“Let me text him first. We can’t ambush him with a video call without warning. And he might be busy with rehab.”
I pull out my phone under the table like I’m sixteen again and text him.
Benji:Don’t freak out. I’m at my mom’s house. I told her about you. She wants to see you. On video. Right now. You can say no if you’re busy.
Three dots. Disappear. Appear again.
Mickey:You told your mother about me?
Benji:Yes!!! Of course. She took her glasses off. It’s like a superpower. I had no choice. Do you want to meet her? If you say no she’ll be fine but she’ll also spend the next three months asking me every Wednesday why she hasn’t met you yet. It’s easier to do it now. Trust me on this.
Mickey:Give me one minute.
I glance at Mom, who is watching me text with the patient expression of a woman who already knows the answer.
“He said yes. Give him a minute.”
Mickey:Okay. Ready.
I open the video call. It rings twice and then his face fills the screen. He’s in his room. Clean white shirt. Hair pushed to the side. I can tell he combed it in the last sixty seconds because there’s a faint wet line near his temple where he used water from his cup.
He combed his hair for my mother. In sixty seconds. With cup water.Damn. He’s killing me here. I blink and look away from the screen for a second so he can’t see my eyes.
“Mickey,” I say, turning the phone toward her. “This is my lovely mom.”
Mom takes the phone from my hands without asking. She holds it at arm’s length because she doesn’t have her glasses on.
“Hi, Mrs. Bennett,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”
His voice is different. More careful and respectful.
“Oh, call me Elena,” Mom says. “Mrs. Bennett was my mother-in-law and we didn’t get along.”
“Yes, ma’am. Elena.”
He called her ma’am. I watch from across the table as Mom’s face softens.
“Benji tells me you’re a police officer,” she says.
“Yes, ma’am. Bay County Sheriff’s Office.”
“And you were hurt protecting my son.”
Mickey wasn’t expecting her to put it right out there. His composure holds but something moves behind his face. He might’ve been expecting questions about the injury or rehab. Not this.
“I was doing my job, ma’am.”
“No,” Mom says. “You were doing more than your job. My son told me what happened and I know the difference.”
Mickey’s neck goes red. The flush starts below the collar and climbs. It reaches his jaw and then his cheeks and he drops his gaze for a second. He’s blushing in front of my mother and I’m going out of my freaking mind.
“How’s the food there?” Mom asks, pivoting when she sees the blush. “Benji says you like sweet tea.”
“The food’s not bad. The sweet tea here is terrible, though. Not enough sugar. It tastes like someone waved a sugar packet over a glass of brown water.”
