His mother nodded toward the TV. “That’s new.”
Doreen’s voice wasn’t as disapproving as he’d expected. Ean’s parents had discouraged watching television. When he was growing up, his family’s set had been so small, if he’d actually wanted to see a televised sporting event, he’d had to go to Quincy’s house.
Ean rubbed a hand over his mouth to mask a smile. “You’re welcome to come over to watch a football game anytime.”
She inclined her head. “I may take you up on that.”
Ean’s jaw dropped. Was she serious? How should he respond? He was still thinking about that when she walked away.
His mother circled the heavy mahogany coffee table. She traced the matching end table beside the sofa. Its twin stood on the opposite side. Each table supported stone lamps in modern designs.
His parents had helped him pick out his living-room set from a furniture store in Long Island. His father had saved him from his mother’s selections. Every set she chose had screamed, “My mommy decorated my condo.” Was she remembering that day? He’d never forget it.
Ean cleared his throat. “That was a good day.”
“Yes, it was.” Doreen gave him a soft smile over her shoulder. “Your things suit your new home perfectly.”
“Yes, they do.” It was as though he was meant to be here.
Doreen wandered toward the dining room and another furniture set on which he and his father had outvoted her. She unpacked the fast-food bag onto the table. “I brought your favorite—burger, fries and soda. Although, how you can eat this stuff and not get fat is beyond me.”
He held the chair at the head of the table for his mother, then sank into a seat on her right. “I exercise. Besides, I don’t eat like this every day.”
Doreen’s gaze remained fixed on her burger as she unwrapped it. “I’m concerned that you may have felt forced out of the house. You didn’t have to leave, if you weren’t ready.”
Ean released his still-unwrapped burger and covered her hand with his. “I was ready, Mom. I’m thirty-two years old. I need a place of my own.”
And so did she. Ean had heard footsteps creeping down the stairs the previous night after he’d settled into bed.
“Are you sure?” Doreen’s brown eyes were dark with concern.
“Positive.”
A smile touched her eyes. “Good, then I can enjoy my meal.”
Conversation about his move into the town house, her morning at Books & Bakery and the paperwork he needed to complete to establish his law practice carried them through their meal.
“Another reason I like fast food.” Ean stood and crushed the remains of their lunch into the restaurant’s paper bag. “No dishes.”
He crossed to the kitchen, which was a cozy nook beside the dining room, and stuffed the garbage into the large, black heavy-duty bag he’d designated for his move-in–day trash.
Ean turned back toward the dining room—and paused. He rested his shoulder against the threshold between the kitchen nook and the dining area. He studied his mother, who was still seated at the table. “Mom, I’m glad you asked about the reason I moved out.”
“So am I, Ean.” She shifted in her chair to face him.
Doreen looked as though she’d turned back time. Her dark brown hair’s soft-layered cut highlighted her classic features. Her wardrobe—hot pink jersey, light blue jeans and powder white sneakers—was even more youthful.
He took a deep breath; then he realized he was stalling. “I don’t like this awkwardness between us.”
“Neither do I.”
She sensed it, too? Was that bad or worse? “How do we get past it?”
Doreen sighed. “It’ll take time, Ean. Frankly, your moving out will help. We haven’t lived together in fourteen years. You were a kid when you left home. You’re an adult now. We have to become reacquainted.”
Ean’s eyebrows shot upward. “‘Reacquainted’? I’m your son.”
Doreen smiled. “We were bound to have some conflict simply because our relationship will have to change now that you’re older.”