Page 19 of My Mom's Man
Mascara is indeed smeared all over my upper cheeks. I go ahead and wash all my makeup off for the day. It’s not like Reid hasn’t seen me without makeup. He gets to see the bare-faced, sweaty version every morning on our runs. When I return to the kitchen, he’s plating up our food.
“I’m starving,” he says, hazel eyes burning hot into me. “This smells so damn good.”
Me or thespaghetti?
I hurry to grab us a couple of sodas from the fridge and then some silverware. By the time we sit at the table, I’ve cooled off.
“I feel like I’ve barely seen you,” Reid says before shoveling in a bite of spaghetti.
“Babysitting.” I shrug my shoulders. “Gotta make that money.”
He frowns. “You’re still in school. You don’t have to. I can take care of you.”
I bristle at his words. “I don’t want you to.”
“Oh.” He tears his gaze from mine to study his plate. “Are you mad at me, Em?”
“Only when you think it’s your duty to be my provider.”
His head snaps up. “I see.”
“I’m not like her,” I tell him stubbornly. “I don’t use men to see what I can get out of them.”
“You’re just upset with her. You don’t mean that.”
I twist my spaghetti on my fork but can’t eat a bite yet. “Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not…” He sighs heavily and nudges my foot with his. “Look at me.”
I meet his tender gaze and soften. He flashes me a sweet smile that has my heart fluttering.
“Tell me what you want from me.” He bores his gaze into me. “I just want to make you happy.”
“I want to feel like I’m contributing,” I tell him with a lift of my chin. “Mom may be a freeloader, butI’m not. Now that I’m making money, I want to help out around here.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “I can work on that.”
At least he’s going to try.
“How’s the babysitting going?” He goes back to eating, but his gaze never leaves mine.
I light up talking about my job. “I love it. The kids are so sweet. Word is getting around, too. I’m already booked out every weekend through Christmas with the Blakelys and their friends.”
“That’s great,” he says with a grin. “I’m proud of you for getting out there and booking clients.”
His words fill me up and I’m able to release some of the hurt and anger toward Mom while we chat. Our conversation bounces around from my job to his property management to Brayden and the baby. Dinner is nice. My stomach no longer roils with disappointment at having been stood up by my mother and I’m able to go back for seconds.
Later, while Reid does the dishes and puts the food away, I frost the cake. I’m not the best decorator, but it looks good enough to eat.
“Should we wait for her?” Reid asks, gesturing at the cake. “Or…”
“We’re going to eat it now.” I rip open a pack of birthday plates. “If she feels bad about it, then good. I felt bad when my mom chose her client over me.”
He nods in understanding. “Whatever you want, Em.”
We cut into the cake and eat while standing in the kitchen. The cake is sweet and spongy. It’s perfect. Mom really missed out.
“You have frosting on your face,” Reid says, smirking.
