Page 97 of Masks and Mishaps

“Never going to clarify that for you, ma’am,” I reply. “But to answer your first question, since Halloween.”

“Recent. Good,” she says, straightening her spine—bracing herself. “Well, I survived the time you sprained your wrist during a keg stand and then sprained the other wrist the following weekend when you tried to do a one-armed keg stand.”

“Yep.”

“And I survived the time you got drunk and bought a live peacock at a silent auction. At least that was for cancer research…”

“Yep.”

“And I survived the time you drank so many liters of beer at Oktoberfest that the Bavarian Minister-President told you to never come back. I’m sure I can survive—” She adjusts the hem of her expensive linen skirt and exhales. “—the story of you and my future daughter.”

I tell her everything.

…Well, just everything that won’t traumatize her, which is, like, one sentence: “We got drunk, hooked up, and decided to keep hooking up until the wedding.”

Her eyebrows float and stay there. “You have feelings for her.”

“But we set a deadline. It’s strictly professional.”

She stares at me hard.

I stare back.

…Shit. Mom has always known Essie, Valeria, and Cora are camgirls, which means…

“Dalton…”

I grimace. “Yeah, Mom.”

“Professional,” she repeats, enunciating the word. “As in…”

I hesitate before I nod, and Mom looks away. “Like I said, we’re going to stop,” I try to reassure her. “Essie’s serious about the deadline, and she respects you. And you don’t have to worry about our jobs. We wear masks, and Essie’s amazing. She can edit the videos if we accidentally say something we shouldn’t.”

“And you’re okay with all this?” she inquires.

“With camming? Totally—”

“No, are you okay with…” She waves her hand. “With being intimate with someone you love for four weeks and then just stopping?”

Someone I love.

When I don’t respond, she leans back in her chair. “You don’t have to lie. I’m your mom; I know. I wish I’d known how serious this was.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. You deserve to be happy. You spent your adult life taking care of Lander, Everett, and me, and you were stuck with Frank. He held you back.Weheld you back—”

“I’m happy,” she cuts in firmly. “Ichoseto have you, to take Lander and Everett in like my own sons, and I have no regrets. Maybe there was a time when I wondered about working or traveling alone, but I did plenty of exciting things after I divorced Frank. And after all that, I realized I wanted a partner again—and Porter made me laugh. He’s gorgeous and creative and earnest, Dalt. Do you know how refreshing that is? Frank never…” She clears her throat. “Anyway, what you just described—a woman raising three boys instead of getting what she wanted…it’s noble of you to try to correct that for me, but isn’t that what Essie had to do?”

The words collide into me. “Shit,” I blurt out. “Did I make the wrong choice?”

Mom rises from the chair and loops her arm over me as she sits. “If what you and Essie have is serious, I don’t have to—”

“Do not cancel your wedding,” I warn. “I’ll literally never forgive myself. You think I’m sad now? Just wait. I’ll have an acoustic album of guitar ballads written by the end of the year.”

Her expression goes soft. “My son,” she murmurs, “you don’t even play the guitar…and you’re the most selfless person—for better or for worse.”

Right now, it sure feels worse.

“Now, be honest,” she continues, rubbing my shoulder. “Does anyone else know other than the six of you?”

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