Page 87 of Audiophile

I wince, sipping my water to stall her interrogation. “Petra is only a stranger when you measure by time.”

Mom rubs her forehead like she’s got a headache coming on. “That’s usually how people measure relationships. Time.”

“Maybe they shouldn’t. Nine years living with someone who doesn’t understand you and it’s considered a long-term relationship? Or a person you thought you knew drags you through absolute hell, yet we should get engaged because it’s been several months? What kind of measurements are those?”

Mom has the decency to wince. “Normal ones. Reed, I know how headstrong you can be, and how sensitive you are. But your examples are not the norm. You don’t know this woman. Sometimes fierce connections burn hot and fast, leaving nothing but ash.”

I hold back my argument, because I won’t walk away from the woman who brought me back to myself. Who makes me laugh, sends my pulse racing, and has forest eyes that I drown in each time she looks at me.

Romeo and Juliet couldn’t get over each other either. They met, married, and died in less than a week. I used to think that was shit, but now it’s easy to see how they could get swept up and behave irrationally. Even Titanic took place over four days, and the movie was hailed as the greatest love in a century.

“Maybe,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean Petra and I can’t date. Take it slow.”

“Of course, no one is saying that.” Mom smiles, relief spreading over her face. It lightens stress lines around her mouth. Little wrinkles that my choices put there. “Taking it slow is perfect. Now,what about the rest of it? Move in with me for a while. You can stay in your old room, get back on your feet, and save up again.”

“Actually, you’re the first to know—I put together an offer on a house in Portland. It’s a ridiculously low price.”

“You what? I—you—Reed. Couldn’t you move somewhere closer?” Mom sits back, white with surprise. “What happened to taking it slow?”

“Petra and I can take it slow better when I’m only an hour away. Plus, it’s a nonstop flight from Des Moines,” I offer with a wink. “Less than four hours.”

Mom sighs, her eyes flitting across the table like she’s arguing with herself.

“Honestly, I thought you were going to yell at me,” I admit, and Mom glares at me. I give her an apologetic version of a smile, trying not to poke the bear. “Want to tell me why you’re not?”

“I should.I want to.In fact, I want you to take back the offer on the house and live with me. I want you to stop pining over a woman you knew for a few days.” She leans forward and pokes me firmly in the shoulder with one, bony finger. “I want you to get a job where women don’t assume they know you because you’re a voice on the internet!”

“Mom—”

She deflates, pinching her nose. “But most of all, I want you to be happy. And that means putting all my wants for you aside and letting you choose your own life.”

“Wow, Mom…” It’s not remotely what I expected. “Is that years of family and marriage counseling talking?”

“Be grateful I had it,” she warns, “or this would be an entirely different conversation. What is it about Portland, Reed? Please tell me it’s more than Petra.”

“It is. I promise. It’s got the hustle and pocket neighborhoods of LA, plus all the charm of a weird, little community. It’s art and being outdoors. Knowing your neighbors. I don’t know that I would’ve considered the city before I visited, but I would’ve missed out.”

“It sounds nice. Maybe you could rent there for a while? Try it out?”

I nod. “Exactly. Renting the house until escrow closes is a contingency on my offer.”

“Oh, Reed. I wish I drank,” she mutters. “Could you at least do a background check on her?”

While I know where she’s coming from, it sits in my gut like a foul-tasting brick. “Let’s see if Petra even texts me back and go from there.”

Mom sits up tall, slamming her open palm on the table with a harshthwack.“You bought a house for a girl who isn’t talking to you? Forget it, Reed, I’m yelling! What the hell are you thinking—”

“This should be good news for you,” I say with a grin. “It means I’m not doing it for a woman.”

“You’re going to give me a heart attack, Reed Josiah Alexander!”

I sink into my seat as the other patrons shoot us concerned looks.

She doesn’t mean it, not really. I’ve overloaded her—given her too much truth at once. I should’ve dipped my toe into the water, kept the house a secret. Jumping in headfirst with Petra has me jumping in headfirst with everyone else, but it emphasizes the difference.

Petra jumpedwithme.

“What happened to letting me choose my happiness?” I ask.

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