Page 103 of I Choose You
“Okay, good. Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”
Reid followed me into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
“Do you want me go with you?”
“Reid, she’s my mother. She’s not exactly a threat.”
“She is if she’s going to try to convince you to go back to Connecticut,” he muttered under his breath.
“Hey.” I looped my arms around his neck. “I choose you. There is nothing for me in Connecticut because you’re not in Connecticut.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”
I gave him a quick kiss before letting him go. I discarded my pajamas, preparing for the shower.
“Do you think your mother will notice if we both come out with wet hair?” His eyes sparkled as his gaze devoured me from head to toe.
I laughed and threw the only thing in my hands at him… my underwear.
He caught them and tucked them into his back pocket.
“Is that a yes?” he smirked.
“No. We are not having shower sex with my mother in the other room waiting. Go to work.” I shooed him away. “But do not take my dirty underwear with you,” I warned.
“Too late.” He winked as he turned to leave.
Twenty-five minutes later, I was ready to go.
Reid and my mother were sitting in silence when I made my way into the living room.
“All set. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
“Will you be joining us, Reid?” my mother asked as he walked us to my car.
His scanned my face, a silent question to see if I had changed my mind.
“No. Unfortunately, I have to get to work,” he answered.
His lips brushed across mine lightly as he opened the driver’s-side door for me.
“Love you,” I whispered.
“Love you too. Call me if you need anything.” He didn’t lower his voice. His words were directed at me but held a warning for my mother. I was his, and he was mine. If I needed him, he would be there in an instant.
I drove us over to the Downtown Diner. The smell of pancakes, syrup, coffee, and home fries melded into an enticing aroma. My stomach growled with anticipation. Mrs. Adams, Charlie Wilder’s elderly neighbor, was sitting at a booth with her grandson. I smiled and waved as we passed.
Sheila came out from the kitchen carrying three plates of food.
“I’ll be right there, hon. Coffee?”
“No rush, Sheila. And yes, please. Mom?”
“Make that two,” she replied, adding a beat later, “please.”
I settled into the last open booth, my mother sitting across from me. When was the last time we had gone out to breakfast or voluntarily spent time together? Well, there was the charity dinner about a month ago. It wasn’t specifically mother/daughter quality time, but it was something.
My mother looked comically out of place sitting on the vinyl seat in a small-town diner. She looked around, taking in the antique decor and outdated linoleum floors. She probably thought a place like this was dingy and classless. But all I could see were the people enjoying each other’s company, talking to their neighbors and friends, eating good food that filled their bellies.
