Page 18 of Thinking It Over

I chuckled at that. “The hours are an eye-opener, that’s for sure, but I’m still smiling.”

“I just bet you are.”

“Are you wriggling your brows?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, don’t. It’s disturbing.”

“I’ll take a video of it, put it on loop, and send it your way. That way, you can cuddle up to the live-action me whenever you want.” I could just picture his shit-eating grin and couldn’t help but laugh.

“How about let’s not do that.”

“So back to you smili—”

“Oh, look. Is that the time? I have to go.”

“Hey!”

I blew a noisy kiss over the line. “I’ll text you on Saturday when I’m leaving. Be good, handsome.” I laughed, making sure he could hear me before I ended the call.

A second later, he sent me a text.

Ian: Asshole

Five seconds passed by, and I opened up a three-second boomerang of his damn brows.

Me: Smooth moves.

I left my phone on my bed and left my room, hearing Mom downstairs. The past week she’d been more present, more herself. Every time she shot me a smile that reached her eyes, a wave of relief flooded me. It had been a year since Dad passed. While I still missed him, every day, in fact, I’d noticed a switch in her, mainly since my new job.

Dad would have been so proud of me. I knew that with absolute certainty. And each time I thought that, my smile came a little easier, became a little brighter when I thought of him. I thought the same was true of Mom.

When I’d told her about my position, she’d cried. Happy tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d wrapped me up in her arms, whispering her love and support. It was the first time she’d spoken of Dad without crying too.

While my concern for her was ever-present, the heavy weight that pressed down on my shoulders since receiving the phone call from Mom’s next-door neighbor letting me know Dad’s heart had given out had shifted. I felt lighter and freer, and I wished with everything in me that Mom would reach the same place I was soon.

“What are you doing?” I asked her when I entered the kitchen. She was sitting at the kitchen table at her laptop.

A smile lifted her lips when she glanced my way. “I’ve just made cocoa. You want one?”

My brows shot high. “Cocoa?” The last time she’d made me cocoa was when I was seventeen and my first boyfriend had broken my heart.

Her tinkling laugh filled the room. My heart expanded at the sound. “Yes, cocoa. Don’t sound so surprised, geez.” She stuck her tongue out at me and then laughed. No doubt at the perplexed look on my face. “You want one or not?”

I nodded, saying, “Yes, please,” as I made my way over and sat while she stood and headed to make me a drink.

She made her way around the kitchen. Something was different, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what. Since taking on my new job, I’d barely spent more than five minutes with Mom besides sharing the occasional meal. The knowledge didn’t sit well. But I looked at her again, tilting my head, my eyes boring into her back.

“What?” she finally asked with a quick glance over her shoulder at me. Amusement lit her eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Her words were evasive, deliberately so going by the twitch of her lips as she headed toward me carrying a steaming mug.

I was never great at giving the stink eye, but I tried anyway. “Your hair…” My gaze roamed her face and her hair. “…it’s highlighted.” A smile immediately slipped free. “It looks really nice.”

As she sat and handed me my drink, she used her free hand to touch the strands. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

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