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He nodded. “Mom has all of those digitized. I didn’t want to bore you to tears on our second night together. But I figured I’d sum up those years for you in a different way.”
Before I could ask what he meant, Rafe took out his phone. His thumb tapped the screen and then there was ringing, followed by a woman’s voice.
“Hey, Ma.”
My eyes bulged.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she said. “I’ve been looking forward to your call all night.”
Rafe’s eyes flicked to me and back to the phone. “I might need to give her a minute before I let you say hello because I didn’t give her any warning that I was calling you. She sort of looks like she might kill me right now.”
His mother laughed. “Rafe, you don’t just spring a FaceTime with your mother on a woman.”
“I’m sort of realizing that right now. But hang on anyway. I’ll let you say hi.”
I quickly smoothed my hair before Rafe turned the phone to face me.
“Hi, Talia.” His mom smiled. “I’m sorry my son didn’t warn you that he was going to call. But I’m very happy to meet you. Rafe has told me so much about you.”
He’d told his mother about me? Shocked wasn’t a strong-enough word.
I lifted a hand, suddenly feeling awkward. “Hi, Mrs. Rivers. It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s Jane, please.”
Rafe tilted the phone back toward him. “Mom, I’m giving you free rein to fill Talia in on my teenage years.”
Within minutes, she had me laughing so hard I had to set my wine down. She told me about Rafe painting a mural on the side of their apartment building when he was thirteen—a half-naked woman, no less—and then trying to convince her it had always been there. She told me how he’d refused to cut his hair from ages twelve to sixteen because he wanted to look like all the “slightly haunted” musicians he loved. At one point, she disappeared from the screen and came back with a stack of canvases to show me her favorite pieces he’d painted from different years.
Rafe watched me, not the screen, as we talked, and the smile on his face made my heart feel impossibly full. Jane and I chatted for what had to be half an hour. By the time she ran out of material, it felt like I’d known her for years.
“Just one last thing I want to add,” she said. “And then I’ll let you go.”
“I’m in no rush.”
“Maybe. But after hearing the way my son talks about you, I’m sure he’s anxious to have you to himself again.”
I smiled.
“I thought I should let you know that Rafe has never done this before. So you must be someone special.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Rafe did. He leaned into the camera frame. “She is.”
His mom’s expression warmed. “Goodnight, you two.”
“’Night, Ma.”
“Goodnight, Jane.”
After Rafe ended the call, I felt so full of emotion I might burst. I pressed my lips to Rafe’s, and it didn’t take long for him to take over. He cupped my cheeks, tilted my head, and deepened the kiss.
It was perfect. The photo album. The call to his mom. This kiss. Never in a million years would I have imagined this could be a perfect evening, but somehow, it was.
Until my phone rang.
I turned my head, half expecting it to be his mother calling again because she’d remembered one more embarrassing story.
