Grabbing a toothpick, I opened the oven door, poking the first few muffins. They were just perfect. My mouth watered with anticipation.
“I know you want to steal one. Go ahead. I’ll pretend I didn’t see,” Mom said.
I jutted out my lower lip. “But half the fun was always sneaking them.”
“Ah, my dear girl. You honestly thought I never counted the muffins?”
I laughed and took out a muffin, biting into it before it had a chance to cool down.
Holy shit, what had I been thinking?
“Heavens, girl, no need to burn your tongue.” Mom handed me a glass of iced tea. I gulped it down as quickly as possible, but the damage was already done. I wouldn’t taste much for the next few days. It was only then that I realized Mom was watching me intently. She hadn’t asked many questions after our conversation on the plane. I’d thought she wanted to give me a chance to get a good night sleep, but she’s been suspiciously quiet this morning. In retrospect, that should have clued me in that something was awry. Mom’s credo was that it was her prerogative to question her daughter as she saw fit—so she could dish advice, whether I wanted it or not.
“Have a seat,” Mom instructed, in the exact tone of voice that usually preceded one of our “serious” talks. I climbed back on one of the orange chairs.
“You shouldn’t stay locked up in the house all morning. You need to go out, enjoy the sun a bit,” she said as she arranged the muffins on a plate.
“I’m not sure what I need. To relax a little, I think. I can’t stop thinking about all the things I need to do back in New York... like pack up the apartment.”
“What’s Ryker got to say on the topic?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it.” I’d emailed my landlord this morning, asking for an extension, and received a no within minutes.
“Listen, Heather, I’m so proud of you, you know. I don’t say it very often, and I’m sorry for that. That was how I was raised, but I should tell you more often than I do. You’re a dreamer, and a fighter, and I couldn’t be more proud of you. You didn’t have it easy, but you fought tooth and nail to make New York your home, to give that little girl everything she needs.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I heard what you said last night. You can’t protect Avery from getting upset now and then. You have nothing to be guilty about. You deserve to be happy, Heather. You and Avery. And Ryker is making both of you happy—I’ve never seen you two like this. And he wants to be there for you through everything.”
I chuckled. “That sounds like something he would say.”
Mom averted her gaze.
“Wait a second... that sounds exactly like something Ryker would say. Mom..., have you talked to him?”
She didn’t answer. My ass slid so close to the edge of the chair that I nearly fell off.
“Mom?” I urged.
“Well, I’m not supposed to tell you anything about it.”
“Mom!” I repeated, tone stronger this time. “Tell me everything. When did you talk to him? What did he say?”
“He called me last night.”
“What? How did he even have your number?”
“Asked for it on Facebook.”
“What did he want?” My heart rate was out of control. I placed a hand on my chest, as if that could help calm down my pulse.
“I can’t say.”
“Mom!”
“Stop Mom-ing me. I won’t tell you anything, except that he was very charming.”
I chuckled, dropped my chin to my chest. “Of course, he was.” Then I decided to try another angle. “Why did he call you and not me?”