Page 74 of Written in the Stars
“Since when doyoudrink boxed wine?” So much for an escape. Mom stood in the doorway, frowning.
And apparently, she was the one who asked too many questions?
Turning, Darcy reached inside the cabinet and grabbed two glasses. She snagged the bottle of red closest to her and tugged on the cork, quickly filling both glasses before adding an extra splash to hers for good measure.
“It’s not mine.” She offered Mom a glass and slipped past, leaving the kitchen. “A friend left it here.”
“A friend?” Mom asked, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a landslide.
Taking a generous sip, Darcy set her glass down on a coaster and sat on the far end of the sofa closest to the window. “Yes, Mom. I have friends.”
Mom perched herself on the other end of the couch, pinching her glass tightly by the stem. “Well, go on. I want to hear about thisfriendof yours.”
Her brow wiggle passed suggestive, entering into lewd territory.
Darcy acted like she hadn’t spoken. “So. You’re staying with Brendon.”
Mom hauled her purse onto her lap and rifled through the inner pocket. “No hard feelings, I hope. I called him to pick me up from the airport and he offered his guest room, so...”
With a crow of satisfaction, she withdrew a cigarette and lighter from her purse.
“You can’t smoke in here,” Darcy said.
Cigarette hanging from the side of her mouth, Mom waved Darcy off. “Oh what? Like your landlord’s ever going to find out if I—”
“I don’t want you smoking in here.” Yes, it was a building policy, but it was also a Darcy policy. One she wouldn’t budge on.
Mom tugged the cigarette from her mouth and gestured to the wall of windows. “What if I crack a window?”
Jesus. “We’re on the ninth floor. The windows are floor to ceiling; they don’t open.”
With a huff, Mom threw the cig and lighter back into her purse, which she then tossed on the floor. “Okay,Mom. Jeez, I never raised you to be such a tight-ass.”
Darcy bit the tip of her tongue, swallowing her retort. Mom had barely raised Darcy at all.
“So you’re here for Brendon’s Christmas party. You must be planning to fly home around the same time as Brendon and me.”
“About that.” Mom tucked one leg up on the couch, turning to face Darcy.
Ah, thebut. It had only been a matter of time, a matter of how long Mom was going to beat around the bush before she came out with the real reason why she was here. Not only in town, but at Darcy’s apartment, on her couch, guzzling her wine down like it was water, and gripping the stem of her glass so hard Darcy worried it would break.
“I was thinking we’d have Christmas here this year,” Mom said. “Save you and Brendon the trip.”
“We already have tickets.”
Mom opened her mouth only to pause. She took a deep breath and smiled tightly on the exhale. “Your brother canceled those.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t say anything.”
“I asked him not to.” She scooted closer, sliding across the cushions. “I wanted to tell you myself. Preferably in person.”
Darcy’s pulse stuttered then sped. “Is everything okay? You’re not—”
Mom rested a hand on top of hers. “Everything’s fine. God, you worry too much.” She reached up, poking the space between Darcy’s brows. “It’s gonna give you wrinkles one of these days.”
Darcy batted her fingers away. She worried for good reason.
“Then what is it? Why aren’t we having Christmas in San Francisco?”
