Page 2 of Caged Heat

“Mack.” I smiled my first genuine one of the day as I neared, pulling my twenty-four-year-old son into my arms. Now this felt worth it. This was the moment I’d been waiting for.

“Congrats, Mom. I’m so proud of you. Dad would be too.”

Tears tickled my eyes as I soaked in his praise. All the late nights and sacrifices were for this—to hear that my son was proud of his teen mom. Everything we’d endured together the past twenty-plus years felt worth it a smidgeon more.

“Thanks, Son. I can’t believe I’m finally done.” I squeezed him tight, soaking in his clean-cotton scent, and filed this away in my memory bank.

He stepped back, kissed my cheek, and turned to the woman beside him. My smile tightened on the edges, but I tried to relax my face at my son’s girlfriend.

“Hello, Ashley. Thank you for being here today.”

“Of course, Mrs. Rigsby. Mack’s so proud of you.” She looked up at Mack as she said it, smiling sweetly at him. Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, not a single hair out of place. Ashley had the type of straight hair I strove for but couldn’t obtain without five different hair products and an hour under hot irons. But that was Ashley—effortless and perfect.

So obviously, I hated her.

There wasn’t anything necessarily wrong with her. She was a perfectly nice girl, from what I could tell, but something in my gut kicked up every time she was around, and I couldn’t shake it.

She and Mack had met in his last year of med school. She was a few years younger than him, having graduated with her bachelor’s when he did his doctorate two years early. They’d recently moved in together, so I’d been trying to come to terms with the fact she might be in my life long-term.

I didn’t know if it was just that it was the first time I hadn’t been the only woman in my son’s life or if there was indeed something about her I didn’t like. It had just been Mack and me for so long that it felt weird now to have this intruder.

But I couldn’t expect Mack to live at home forever, nor did I want him to. It was good he’d found someone he loved and wanted to build a life with. At least that was the lie I told myself.

“Do you know where you want to go to lunch to celebrate?” Mack asked, drawing back my attention.

I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off before I could.

“Oh no. I didn’t realize we had plans,” Ashley cried, the sound making my skin crawl. Mack turned to her, lifting his brow in question.

“I told you I wanted to take Mom out for lunch. This is something to celebrate,” he said, looking at her. Ashley fidgeted, her cute little sundress swaying in the breeze. She glanced down at her hands, twisting them as she frowned.

“You’re right. I’m such a horrible person for forgetting. Of course, you’d want to spend the time with your mom. I’ll call my parents and cancel. They were so excited to get reservations at the new restaurant you wanted to try, but I’m sure they’ll understand. I think the waitlist is only two months long.”

“Ginger?” Mack asked excitedly. He turned to me, his eyes wide. “I’ve been wanting to try there for months. What do you think, Mom?”

Oh, sure, honey. I can’t wait to spend the hour not only with your girlfriend but also with her pompous parents while they make subtle jabs at me. That screams, “Let’s celebrate, Mom!”

But the happiness on his face stopped me from saying how I really felt. So, like every mom I knew, I pushed away what I wanted in favor of doing something that would make everyone else happy.

“Sure, honey. That sounds great.” I smiled, the edges strained as I stared into his eyes, the grayish blue so similar to mine. He turned back to Ashley, hopeful he had solved the problem, only to see her frowning.

“Um, I feel terrible about this, but…” She bit her lip, her eyes darting away.

“What is it, Ash?” he asked, stepping closer and effectively cutting me out of the circle.

“The reservation is only for four,” she whispered, her eyes flicking to me.

Mack’s shoulders slumped, and I knew right then this had all been planned. She wanted to spend time with Mack—not me.

“Maybe they could pull up a chair,” he suggested, but no one bought it.

I gave a fake yawn, exaggerating my tiredness. I was the type of tired you get from raising a child on your own, working multiple jobs to pay the bills, and still not ever having enough. The kind of tired that only silk sheets, a week away where you were waited on hand and foot, and financial freedom could bring. But I yawned anyway, pretending that a nap was what I really wanted.

“You know. Now that I think about it, I’m beat. You guys go ahead, and we’ll celebrate another time.”

“But Mom, it’s not just your graduation; it’s also your birthday,” Mack stated, giving me a look like I didn’t know how old I’d turned today.

“Wow! How old are you, Mrs. Rigsby? Fifty?”

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