I put the shirt on as we rushed out of our room, and didn’t realize it was inside out and backward until we were in the hall. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I wanted to crawl into a corner and die when we walked into the living room, and saw Declan’s mom, Linda, holding my shirt and sports bra. Folded.
“I believe you lost this,” she said in her thick drawl. Her wide eyes glanced to Declan, and then she pointed to his shirt on my body. “And I believe you lost that, son.”
“Mom,” Declan said in greeting from where he stood a few feet away from her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today . . . also wasn’t expecting you to just walk in.”
“Now, is that any way to talk to the woman who spent thirty-seven hours birthing you?” Linda took in a steadying breath as her eyes bounced between the two of us. “I wanted to see what you did with your new place, as any mother would. So why doesn’t someone get me a glass of sweet tea before you start showin’ me around, and we’re gonna pretend like the last few minutes didn’t happen.” But I could tell from the narrowing of her eyes that she wouldn’t forget about what she’d walked in on, what she’d heard—just as we wouldn’t.
“I’ll get it,” I murmured, and hurried into the kitchen to start brewing the tea.
I let loose a shaky breath once I was standing at the counter with my back to both of them, and thanked God for those few minutes to gather myself and clear my mind without Declan or Linda watching me.
Emotions flooded me, threatening to overwhelm me and making it nearly impossible to keep them from my face.
The humiliation of Linda hearing something she shouldn’t have was nothing. Nothing compared to the betrayal that sat low and heavy, and burned white hot in my chest. Because for a second while Declan had devoured me, it had been there. . . .
The feel of buzzed hair beneath my fingertips.
Eyes so dark they looked black.
A wicked smirk.
Hard and soft.
Ten months after only one night with him, and he still managed to invade my mind. My hands shook as I pulled down a few glasses that I’d unpacked not long before, and guilt ate at me as I forced all thoughts of him away.
Present Day
“RORIE!”
I jerked away from the fingers snapping in my face and looked at my best friend. “Yeah?”
“You just completely zoned out . . . again.” Taylor’s tone was full of worry, and I hated hearing it. “Do you want to call it for today?”
I looked around at the mass amounts of construction paper, paint, glitter, and letter and number cutouts piled around the living room, and tried to bring myself out of the past and back to the present of prepping for my new kindergarten class. “No, no. Sorry, I must have been daydreaming.”
“Or just dreaming,” she countered teasingly.
“Not. Anyway, thank you for helping me with this. I’m so behind in getting everything ready for my class. I still can’t believe school is starting a week from tomorrow.”
She waved off my thanks. “That’s what best friends are for. Besides, your life is just . . . it’s just chaotic right now with everything, and Declan’s mom . . .” She trailed off at the mention of Linda, and I groaned. “I’m surprised you have time for anything that doesn’t include trying to stay sane.”
My mouth curved up in a smile. “That’s why I have books. I don’t have to try to stay sane; they keep me that way.”
Taylor straightened and pointed around the living room of my apartment. “Oh sweet girl, bless your heart,” she drawled, imitating Linda. “You just can’t go around decorating with your books instead of putting them on shelves.”
I huffed a soft laugh and stopped working on the sign to defend myself. “I didn’t have money for the shelves I wanted, and I liked the way they looked!”
“Oh sweet girl,” Taylor continued, and then dropped her voice down to a whisper. “Did you know that this furniture doesn’t match? Maybe you should let me pick out some new furniture for the apartment.”
That time I laughed louder. Linda had always been exceedingly opinionated, whether it was about how much time Declan and I spent together, how fast we moved in with each other, the way I decorated, or the way I dressed . . . she had something to say about it. But that was just how Linda was. She had too many opinions about everyone’s lives, and she had no problem saying them.
It had become irritating extremely fast, made more so because of the fact that I took every opinion to heart and usually sided with her since I had wanted my boyfriend’s mother to like me.
“Only you, Taylor,” I said with a laugh. “Only you could make me laugh right now.”
“I’ll never stop making you laugh. Speaking of Lovely Linda, don’t you have—”
A timer went off in the kitchen, and I whipped my head around to look in that direction.
“—family dinner soon?” Taylor finished, and pointed toward the kitchen. “Good thing you remembered that.”
“Oh crap!” I dropped the brush I was holding and scrambled to find my phone. “Crap, crap, crap. Linda’s going to kill me,” I said as I hurried to get up and ran to the kitchen. “Just leave it all here, I’ll work on it when I get back.”
“Why is she going to kill you? You remembered to bake her . . .” She trailed off, and eventually gave up trying to remember the name of the dish. “Whatever thing.”
“Yes, but I’m covered in glitter and paint, and I don’t have time to shower.”
Like it was nothing at all, like this wasn’t a family dinner and this wasn’t Linda we were talking about, Taylor said, “Just tell her you were working a pole or something. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
My face fell as I stared at her from across the rooms. “When you say things like that, it makes me question why we’re best friends.”
“Don’t hate me because you don’t share my genius way of thinking.” She shouldered her bag as she headed toward the front door. “Call me if you aren’t hanging out with Declan and need help this week.”
“Love you.”
“Back!” she called out just before she left.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER I was walking through the doorway into the kitchen to meet up with Declan and his family, and my hands were shaking from holding the dessert that I had made so tightly.