Page 43 of Unlikely

“Raine, how many times have we been over this?” I chastise, albeit lightly. “I appreciate it and you, but you don’t need to worry about me, and I don’t need to fill my bed with people I don’t actually want to be with.”

What we have is unique when it comes to mother–daughter relationships. We share in excess, all the time, and people often think we’re strange, but I’d been a child raising a child, and we grew up and learned life lessons together. Traditional and conventional roles and relationships fell by the wayside.

As Raine entered adulthood, the small amount of authority that I wielded became less and less, and now we very much exist as best friends ninety-five percent of the time. We cry together, we laugh together, and, more often than not, we overshare, way too much; case in point.

“But I thought you liked Aubrey.”

“I do like Aubrey,” I confirm. “I just think we’re better suited as friends.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” she asks.

“Not exactly.” She raises her eyebrows at me expectantly. “I met someone a few months ago,” I disclose. “Our paths crossed again recently, and I’m going to go out with her this weekend.”

This is where I straddle the line between telling my daughter as much as I can without outright lying to her and keeping my word to Clementine. People would tell me, I’m the adult and I don’t really owe Raine an explanation at this stage, and they’d be right. But maybe if she knows how invested I am beforehand, it will reduce the shock factor if and when she finds out it’s Clementine.

“And you really like her?”

“I do,” I admit, my whole body lighting up at the simple thought of Clementine. “I really like her.”

“Mom,” she drawls. “Are you blushing?”

Laughing, I shake my head and hide my cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never blushed a single day in my life.”

With a huge smile on her face, Raine drops the clothes she’s holding into her carry-on suitcase and makes her way toward me. She grabs the back of her office chair and pushes it, with me on it.

“What are you doing?” I squeal.

She stops us in front of the full-length mirror she has hanging inside her closet.

“Look,” she instructs. We both stare at my reflection, the pink in my cheeks unmissable. “Pink suits you.”

Spinning the chair, I wrap my arms around her waist in a rush and then run with her toward her bed, until we’re close enough I can push her on it.

“Mom,” she shouts in between laughs as she turns herself and looks up at me.

My cheeks now hurting from smiling with her, I place my hands on my hips. “Now, are you going to finish packing or not?”

“Ughhhh,” she groans. “I can’t decide what to wear for Jamie’s party.”

“Something warm,” I say firmly. “I checked the weather in Seattle, and let me tell you, I do not miss it a bit.”

“Right?” She leans up on her elbows. “And everybody is wearing crop tops or dresses with cutouts. And I refuse to freeze for fashion.”

“That’s my girl,” I say proudly. “You can do wonders with boots and stockings.”

“But I don’t have boots and stockings,” she whines.

“I guess it’s time to go shopping and put that hard earned money to use.”

She raises an eyebrow, her eyes full of mischief. “Your hard earned money or mine?”

* * *

“Hey, her plane hasn’t landed yet,” Jesse says into the phone, assuming I’m calling about Raine.

“Yeah, I know, I get the notifications,” I retort. “That’s not the reason I called.”

“Oh.” He sounds perplexed, like we don’t often talk about anything but Raine. “Okay, what’s up?”

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