Page 173 of Darling Obsession

“Everything room?”

“Yeah.” Quinn blows on her hot cider. “That’s what we call it. It’s the room where Mom puts everything she can’t bear to part with. And believe me, there’s a lot of it. There isn’t a hobby that woman hasn’t tried over the last six years.”

Six years. I wonder if that’s how long Lorraine’s been living with cancer, and unable to work as much.

I’m trying to get a look at the photos in a photo album that lies open on the coffee table, without being obvious about it. “I’m seeing knitting, jigsaw puzzles, what appears to be decades worth of birthday cards… and what looks like a mild pottery obsession? And I don’t even know what else.”

“No one but Lorraine really does,” Quinn teases as her mom comes in, wearing a South Park T-shirt and pajama pants, and carrying a fluffy pink blanket.

“Harlan,” Lorraine says happily, “I thought I heard your voice! It’s quite sexy, you know.”

I think Quinn almost chokes on her cider. “Mom. Take it easy.”

“We’re having a little trouble with the old heater in here,” Lorraine says to me, as she wraps me in the blanket, tucking me in like I’m her child. “Sorry for the chaos. It’s all for the greater good, and a home for that baby.”

“No apology needed,” I tell her. “This is what a home feels like.”

Lorraine smiles, delighted, and wraps Quinn in another blanket she pulls off the back of the sofa. Quinn looks mildly put out as her mom fusses over her, but doesn’t complain.Cozyisn’t even a strong enough word for this feeling. It’s cozy chaos in here, for sure. But moments like this are what the wordheartwarmingwas invented for.

Quinn’s eyes meet mine, and her lips quirk as I take a sip of cider, wrapped in the fluffy pink blanket. It is chilly in here without it. Maybe I can see now, though, how living in a drafty house with sketchy electrical and appliances that are always breaking down is tolerable when you have a mom like Lorraine to share it with.

I can suddenly picture birthdays and Christmases and anniversaries, snuggled together under fluffy blankets, drinking cider while a cake bakes in the oven, and I’m understanding more and more whatfamilycan really mean.

When Lorraine leaves the room, I say to Quinn, “You’ve been avoiding me today.”

“Yeah,” she admits.

“You turned off your location tracking.”

“Are you the only one who deserves privacy? Can’t I have any?”

“Of course you can,” I tell her, but it sticks in my throat. I hate giving her space.

These last two months—ever since finding out she’s pregnant, and everything becoming so tense between us, so fraught with uncertainty—have been two of the hardest of my entire life.

I’ve wanted her right next to me, the whole damn time.

“I understand why you’d want to keep living here and not move in with me,” I tell her, and she softens. “I may have been wrong about this old house. This may be the greatest place on earth.”

“I’m sorry I disappeared yesterday. After our conversation about Darla. The cat, I mean, and… everything. I needed time to think.”

“Quinn, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cared for.”

She seems perplexed by this, but touched. “Your family must be really cold…” she jokes.

“Not cold. Just… not this, either.”

Lorraine comes in again. “I found this baby picture of Quinn.” She hands it to me. “Isn’t she the cutest, fattest little thing you’ve ever seen? She had such a big head! I used to call her my little bowling-ball-headed baby.”

“Nice, Mom,” Quinn says, unimpressed.

“She was just the roundest little thing?—”

“Mom. Don’t you have something to organize in the other room?”

“Okay, okay. I can take a hint.” Lorraine gives Quinn a look and says suggestively, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“It’s always nice to see you, Lorraine,” I tell her as she leaves. “Thanks for the photo of baby Quinn.”

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