Page 84 of Noah

Mother: We'll be there in a few minutes.

Me: No, please don't.

No answer. Not until my intercom buzzed. I pressed the button.

"Not a good time, Mother."

"Don't be ridiculous. Let us in."

Fuck.

I pushed '9' to let them in.

What the hell do they want? I was hoping to spend the night in bed, wallowing in the intense pain my heart was going through. Replaying every smile Brody had ever given me.

I opened my door and ushered my parents inside to the living room.

"What were you doing downtown?" I sat in a Swedish ergonomic creation that my mother had helped me choose when decorating my apartment. It was as uncomfortable as fuck.

"We had an early dinner," my father said.

"You could have come into my pub for dinner."

My mother waved her hand around. "We wanted seafood."

"We have seafood, Mother."

"Yes … well."

I grunted. The number of times in my life I'd been yes … welled by my mother was beyond counting. It was her favourite phrase when it came to anything I had to say.

My mother's eyes scanned the living room.

"Does Brody not have any things?" She stood and started walking around the room.

Shit. The narrative I'd spun was that Brody was supposed to be living with me. We'd only seen my parents two nights ago. Even if I told them Brody and I had split up, one wouldn't expect that the other person's entire lifetime of belongings would be out of the apartment so soon.

She stared at me. "Where is Brody, Noah?"

"He's at work. He always works late."

My mother furrowed her brow at me. She didn't believe me. "What have you done?"

I threw up my hands. "I haven't done anything."

"Noah," my father's voice came at me sternly.

I slumped back in my chair. "Fine. Fine." I covered my face, trying to collect my thoughts. "Brody's not my partner. We don't live together. We're not talking about getting married."

"You lied to us?" I uncovered my face in time to see my mother cross her arms.

Fuck. Despite our differences, I didn't like that I'd hurt her. "You're always hassling me about having a serious relationship in my life. I thought I'd give you that for a while."

"Then who is he? Is he one of those escorts like last time?" This question came from my father. I hadn't realized they'd figured out that my date to last year's gala had essentially been a sex worker. And we'd certainly had sex afterward. Hollow, empty sex. Nothing like with Brody.

"No. Brody was my boyfriend."

My mother stepped toward me. "Was? What did you do wrong?"

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