Page 63 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

I sigh, heavy and long, and rake my hand back through my curly hair. It's a nervous tick I've never managed to shake off. "You're always too good at reading me," I admit, though I don't meet her eyes. It feels like I’m giving in.

Just then, the oven timer dings, a sharp sound that slices through the tension between us. I glance at the digital numbers—time's up. I use the interruption as an escape, opening the oven to peek inside.

Ma's smock crinkles softly as she sets it aside, leaving her in a wool sweater and yoga pants. Her hair, once dark like mine, is threaded through with silver and streaked with paint.

I pull out the shepherd's pie, the steam rising in a comforting cloud. Together, we set the small table by the window, the one she’d always preferred for its view of the city lights winking to life.

"Whiskey?" Ma surprises me by pulling out a bottle from the cabinet—Glenlivet, and a fairly good vintage given the lack of occasion.

"Since when do we drink on a Wednesday?" I ask, one eyebrow arching in suspicion.

She pours two glasses, the liquid gold hitting the crystal with a soft clink. "For you to tell me about the girl you've been sneaking around with," she says, pushing one glass towards me.

A bark of laughter escapes me, and I shake my head. The thought of Shiloh sends a twist through my gut, all sweet and sour. My fingers wrap around the glass, the cool surface grounding. Without much thought, I down the contents in one go, the burn a welcome distraction.

Ma starts on her own meal, cutting into the pie with precision. Her eyes stay on me, patient and expectant, just like they were when I was a kid, and she’d wait out my tantrums.

"You can start with her name," she eventually breaks the silence.

I sigh, the weight of my secret pressing down on my chest. I usually keep her up to speed on what’s going on with my father and his new family… and I’m certain she’ll know exactly who I’m seeing once she knows her name.

"Shiloh," I mutter, bracing myself for her reaction.

"Shiloh…?" Her fork pauses mid-air, and then a frown creases her brow. Recognition sparks in her eyes, and she gasps. "No, Liam. Please don't tell me you're seeing Chris's girlfriend?"

"Ex-girlfriend," I correct quickly, pushing the empty whiskey glass away from me. The room feels suddenly smaller, the walls closing in as I prepare to explain the mess that's become my life. "They broke up months ago. And—she started working for me recently."

"Working for you..." Ma’s voice trails off, her tone layered with something I can't quite decipher.

Is it disapproval? Concern? Both?

"Look, Ma, it's not what you think." I run a hand through my hair, a nervous gesture I can't seem to shake. "It just... happened."

"Isn't she a good bit younger than you?" There's no accusation in her voice, just gentle probing—the same tactful curiosity she's always used to untangle my lies.

I nod, acknowledging the truth in her statement. "Yes, about ten years younger… but our chemistry... it's crazy." I admit, feeling a mixture of defensiveness and vulnerability. "It's like we're drawn to each other, despite knowing we shouldn't be."

Ma watches me for a long moment, her sharp gaze softened by the compassionate tilt of her head. She knows I'm holding back, knows there's more at stake than just a casual fling. But she doesn't push, doesn't pry—I'm grateful for that.

"I think I'm falling for her, Ma,” I go on. “But she's planning to move to Ireland next year." My voice barely carries across the small kitchen. "She wants to study literature at Trinity."

"Trinity, is it?" Ma’s eyes light up with a flicker of pride at the mention of the prestigious university, but then she frowns slightly, piecing together my troubled look. "Oh, Liam. That's quite a complication."

"Yeah," I say, scratching the back of my neck, feeling the weight of the situation. "And we haven't made things official yet. This is all new, and I don't even know if Shiloh wants an actual relationship."

"Shiloh... I'd like to meet her, you know."

I sigh, shaking my head slightly. "I'm not sure if that will be possible, Ma. We're not exactly... well, it’s complicated."

"Complicated, is it?" Ma chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar in the quiet of the apartment. She reaches across the table, placing her weathered hand over mine—an anchor in a sea of uncertainty. "Liam, you've always been a good boy with a soft heart, even if you act like you aren't."

"Ma..."

"Listen to me." Her gaze locks onto mine, fierce and unwavering. "You should pursue this. Even if it's complicated. Love—real love—is worth it, even with the possibility of heartache. Don't you forget that."

I nod, a lump forming in my throat. There's wisdom in her words, the kind that's been honed through years of love and loss. Ma has always been the lighthouse guiding me back to safe shores when I'm lost at sea.

"Alright, Ma. I'll think about it," I murmur, though deep down, I know there's nothing left to ponder. The decision has already taken root in the furthest corners of my heart.

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