It had been humiliating, as his brothers hadn’t wanted to leave the nest. They’d gone to college as had his sister, in Westcliffe Heights.
He’d flown the nest. Moved out first.
Preston got out of the shower, dried his body, and wrapped a towel around his waist. As he was coming out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, he heard his cell phone ringing. Grabbing his phone, he saw his mother was calling.
He clicked the green button and proceeded to speaker so he didn’t have to hold the thing as he dried and got dressed.
“Hey, Mom,” he said.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“How are you doing, son?” this came from his dad, which made him smile.
“Hey, Dad, how are you?”
“I asked you first.”
He chuckled. “I’m doing well. You know me. Constantly working.”
“Yeah, I know, and that’s what I don’t like. You’ve got to realize, young man, you’re not going to be this age forever. There’s nothing to life about working. Nothing at all. The world doesn’t care if you do hundred-hour weeks with no life. They’ll let you do it and not care about it.”
“Greg, really, we both know he is not doing those hundred-hour weeks anymore. He’s got himself a woman, and she is going to be taking care of him. There’s no way she’s going to want her man to spend all of his spare time at the office.”
He couldn’t help but smile, thinking of Eliza.
In the past few hours, he was pretty sure that was all she wanted to do. For him to spend every single waking minute in the office, far away from her.
“You’re right. She is a peach. She doesn’t want me working too hard.”
“Where is she? Do I get to speak to her now?”
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
“Er, actually, Eliza is back at her own place.”
Silence met his words.
“You’re engaged, and you both still have your own place?” his mother asked.
Crap. This wasn’t good. He’d been engaged to Eliza less than twenty-four hours and already he was fucking it up. His mother already sounded suspicious.
“Yes, we … we’re both cautious. We do stay at each other’s apartments. She’s an independent woman. She likes to keep her own space.”
He had no idea what he was talking about.
“Oh, well, I wanted you to know I got your old bedroom set up, and I’ve purchased fresh sheets. You and Eliza will be very cozy in that room.”
“What about a spare room?” he asked. “Eliza doesn’t want to embarrass you.”
“Son, we’ve had five kids, and a whole fifty years of loving one another. Believe me, we know what goes on between a man and a woman.”
Of course, they did.
“I know, but this is … Eliza. She might prefer it, even if she doesn’t use it.”
“She is going to be family. Don’t worry. I will talk to her and let her know that I know there is no better place than being with your man at night. Believe me, I wouldn’t want to spend a moment away from mine.” His parents chuckled.
“This is gross, guys. There has to be some law about parents making out at a time like this.”
“Oh, stop your whining. When are you coming home?” his dad asked.
“I’ll be with you Friday afternoon. There are a few things I’ve got to wrap up here, and then I’ll be there. Back in my hometown, for a month.” Back in his hometown for a month didn’t bother him.
He did happen to love Westcliffe Heights. What he didn’t like were his family’s judgments.
His brothers, in particular, didn’t understand his need to own his own company. To set out a life for himself in the city. They hadn’t ventured far from home. Even when he gave them exclusive paid holidays abroad, they rarely cashed them in, preferring to stay local.
“I can’t wait to meet Eliza,” his mother said.
“She is looking forward to meeting you too.” The lies fell off the tongue, and they were not fun, not in the slightest. He was going straight to hell for this.
“Tell me about her,” his mother said.
“You want to know about Eliza? Like…”
“Everything about her. What she looks like. What she enjoys doing with her spare time. I don’t know, tell me something that made my son sparkle.”
He was screwed. “You know what, Mom, I will tell you everything very soon, but I’m kind of, yeah, I need to, you know, get some sleep. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow, and I’ve got a whole lot of stuff to get organized.”
“Right, of course. I’ll say goodnight. Do you want me to sing you a bedtime story?”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, Mom.” He wasn’t a kid anymore.
She chuckled, as did his father. They were an act together, a complete riot.
He hung up the phone and realized without a shadow of a doubt, he needed to get Eliza and her little notebook together.
Chapter Four