Page 50 of That Reunited Feeling

“It can be hard not to get attached to someone.” I’m talking to myself as much as my kid. “If you hang out with them a lot and get along with them, it’s hard to see them go.”

“He’s really nice,” Dylan says. “He helped me with this.” He points at his geometry book. “And he’s fun.”

“He is really nice. I agree.”

“Please let him teach me guitar. I promise not to be upset when he goes back to England.”

Oh, the innocence of childhood. If only emotions were that simple.

But how can I deny him this bit of fun? And Tom did say it was focusing on guitar lessons that stopped him from getting into trouble and turned his life around. And it would be good for Dylan to learn an instrument. It would get him away from playing video games as his only hobby, and less screen time has to be a good thing. And I certainly can’t pay for lessons for him. Not yet, anyway.

“Okay. If Tom is happy to teach you guitar, then it’s fine.”

“Yes!” Dylan takes his hand from under mine and pumps his fist.

“But you can’t pester him about it, okay? No taking advantage of his time. It’ll have to be scheduled.”

“Promise.”

“I’ll text him.” I get up from the table and pull my phone from my back pocket. “He’s going away tomorrow for a couple days, but I’m in charge of his calendar, so I’ll see if I can fit you in for a regular slot.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You are welcome.” I ruffle his hair again, and he doesn’t wriggle away this time. “I’m going to call Rachel.” I head toward my bedroom. “Finish your homework. But give me a shout if you need anything.”

“I won’t. Tom iswaybetter at geometry than you.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Tom is better at everything than me. Other than organizing—he’s clearly awful at that.

I close the bedroom door with my foot and flop onto the bed.

About to press the call button next to Rachel’s name, I realize Dylan might hear every word. Even if I whisper, it’s too risky. Plus, whispering is suspicious.

Text it is, then.

But first I reach into the nightstand drawer for the bar of my favorite dark chocolate I keep for emergencies. It’s missing only the top row so far—that went when I broke two glasses on my first day here and I was terrified I’d be fired.

I pop the first square into my mouth and let it melt on my tongue as I message Rachel.

ME (11:17 AM)

Kissed Tom.

RACHEL (11:17 AM)

*three applause emojis* *three dancing emojis*

How was it?

ME (11:17 AM)

Amazing.

That’s not a good enough word. But I’m not sure there is a word that sums up his effect on me. I haven’t kissed anyone I feel so connected with, am so attracted to, who I like so much, and whose mind is smart and fun and creative since…well, Tom. It’s an intoxicating combination. And despite having to focus on the serious mother-son talk, I’m still kind of floating.

ME (11:18 AM)

Spectacular. Knee-trembling.

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