Page 121 of Point of Contention

She nodded encouragingly, then motioned for me to take another bite.

We talked throughout the meal, about my second interview this afternoon at Turn the Paige and the position that would be waiting for me there when I finished my internship. We discussed Greer’s plans for selling the old brownstone, her budding relationship with Lacey…

My mom shared her plans for speeding up the apartment hunt, divulged a little bit more about her ongoing divorce from my father, and when we parted ways to go about our separate plans for the day, our bellies were full and my heart was full as well.

These two women would always have my back.

They’d love me through anything, even if they disagreed, and with them in my corner, I finally felt like the pieces of my shattered life were moving back into place.

Moving in with Cabot would be an adventure, no doubt. Call me Indiana freaking Jones, because I wasready.

Chapter Forty

Cabot

Promptly at seven o’clock, as a moving truck pulled to the curb behind me, I stood on the stoop of Professor Clements’ former home. Gripping a lavender latte in my left hand, I reached up to knock on the door with my right—

It swung open and I was met with fierce golden eyes.

“Good evening, Ms. Clements.” I inclined my head.

Greer crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at me, her angry face framed in wild tawny ringlets. “I don’t like this.”

“No, I don’t suspect you do.”

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed.

Looking into the foyer, I asked, “Is Rylan home?’

“She is home.Here. Where shelives.”

I glanced at the watch on my wrist. “Only for another hour or so, two tops.” I met her gaze and flashed a smile. “If the movers are quick.”

Greer’s nostrils flared. “I don’t approve.”

“Noted.” I motioned to the interior. “May I?”

“Are you a vampire?”

I tilted my head, mildly amused.

She rolled her eyes and huffed, but stepped aside. “Why the rush?”

“To come inside?” I glanced over my shoulder at the street, then back at her and tilted my head. “It’s cold out?”

She bared her teeth at me. “No, the rush to move her into your place.”

“It’s simple, really,” I said as I met her angry gaze. “I can’t live without her.”

“You managed it for the first sixty years,” she grumbled.

I chuckled as I stepped over the threshold. “Touché, Ms. Clements.” As I strolled inside the old brownstone, I was immediately surrounded by the professor. From his accolades and certificates dotting the walls to the familiar scent of his old cologne and that tobacco pipe he insisted on trying to hide from students, he was everywhere, and I was instantly transported back in time, twenty years prior.

“Mr. Reed,” a woman said, drawing me out of my reverie.

I turned to the right and found a small study with a pull-out bed in the center that nearly filled the entire room.

Rylan’s mom rose from a reading chair and walked toward me, extending her hand. “It’s nice to see you again,” she said as we shook.

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