Page 20 of The Accidental Dating Experiment
I sweep a hand toward the rest of the home. “I’m honestly surprised there’s not a stripper pole somewhere in here.”
He smiles at that and drops the cardboard into the blue plastic bin. “Me too. I figured there’d be one on the garden level for sure.”
“Just a few tables and a wet bar for your average Darling Springs underground poker game,” I say, amused with the decor, then I shake my head, chuckling softly. “But good for her. Eleanor seems like—well, if the house is any indication—like someone who enjoys life. The gifting fits too. I think generous people are often the happiest.”
Monroe cocks his head like he’s considering that. “You’re probably right. And she definitely seemed to be enjoying her new tennis instructor whenever she called about him.”
“Definitely.” I smile as I think of our favorite fan. It’s easier than thinking of the long text exchange I had with my mother while Monroe was out. But I can’t keep putting off the topic, especially since Mom’s partly why I’ve been winding myself up with worry.
“Hey,” I say, in a vulnerable tone, opening up.
“Yeah?” he asks, leaning against the counter.
“My mom’s coming to town tomorrow.” She only lives twenty minutes away, so it’s an easy drive. As soon as I mentioned I’d be nearby, she jumped at the opportunity to get together, which concerns me a little.
“Oh.” He scratches his jaw. “That’s good?”
I nod a few times, nerves winging through me. “I hope so. I’m worried about her. We’re having breakfast in the morning at the café at The Ladybug Inn.”
“I know that place. Good pancakes, but why are you worried?”
That’s a good question, which I’ve been chewing on, not for a few hours, but a few months. “Their divorce was only final two months ago. I had to travel a lot for business, so I haven’t seen Mom since they split. We’ve talked plenty, but I should have seen her sooner. Same with my dad, but he always seemed so steady, so certain. I’m more scared of how she’s doing.” It’s a relief to give voice to that fear.
“That’s understandable, especially when we think we might have to take care of our parents in some way.”
I knew he was the right person to share with, that he’d get it immediately. “She was always so secure. So even-keeled. I’m genuinely nervous about the effect that divorce might be having on her.”
“Your dad was always her rock of support, right?”
“Yes. I just hope she’s doing okay. There wasn’t even a big reason for the split, you know? They both said, repeatedly, it was amicable. They realized they just weren’t right for each other.” I’m still a little shocked when I repeat those words. “I mean, how does that happen? After thirty-five years?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t see her for a few months. Maybe you weren’t ready.” This side of him calms me at times, soothes me when I need it. He’s masterful at getting under my skin, but he’s also surprisingly good at saying the right thing.
Well, I suppose it’s not surprising. It’s literally his job. But I haven’t told him the kicker.
“She said she had some things to talk to me about,” I blurt out, twisting my fingers.
He tenses, eyes flickering with concern that he quickly seems to let go of, maybe for my sake. “Is she okay?”
“She assured me it was a—quote—good thing.” I sketch air quotes as I imitate her. “But I’m still nervous.” I lock gazes with the man I’m sharing a bunk bed with tonight, and his eyes are kind and caring. I’ll need that tomorrow. “Would you come with me?”
His smile is as instant as his answer. “I will.”
“Thanks. I’ll text her and let her know. She’ll be excited,” I say, then I yawn. “I should get ready for bed. I’ll see you in the bunk.”
Hmm. I realize quickly that I didn’t think this through. The whole bra-free lifestyle I practice at night, I mean. And really, what woman doesn’t go braless as often as she possibly can?
I frown at my softly lit reflection in the bathroom mirror, plucking at the loose neckline of my sleep T-shirt. Yes, it goes down to my thighs. Yes, I’m wearing sleep shorts.
But…
The girls are jiggling and wiggling around.
They’re not huge, though they aren’t small either. Am I going to just sashay out that door, say sleep tight, then slide into bed all free-range?
It’s not anything he hasn’t seen before, one voice says.
I know, but we don’t talk about that, the other voice whispers.