Page 80 of Glad You Exist

Liz and I both freeze at the sound. She moves slightly away from me, and I quickly remove my hands from her, standing.

I turn and find my mom with a hand on the doorknob.

I watch embarrassed as the frown on my mom’s face grows into a full-on Cheshire cat grin. She works hard to school her features into a stern look, but the corners of her mouth keep pulling up. Immediately I know she’s already making assumptions.

“Dinner . . .” She stutters, shaking her head. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

I can hear Liz behind me smothering a laugh, but I don’t want to indulge my mom.

Giving her a pointed look, I say, “We’ll be right behind you.”

A well-manicured brow rises to her forehead, and she gives me a look as if to say,You’re not off the hook yet but I approve. Inwardly rolling my eyes, I muster a smile and nod.

“Twenty minutes.” With a tap on the door, she closes the door behind her.

Smooth, mom. Any other mother would demand the door be left open if she walked in on her son with a girl in his room but not my mom.

Not that I’m not thrilled but I know it has everything to do with the fact that it’s Liz and nothing to do with how much she trusts me.

I hear giggling behind me, and I turn to find that Liz is laughing again while she zips up her backpack.

God, I love her laughter. She doesn’t do it enough anymore but when she does, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world to be in the presence of it.

“Your mom isn’t very subtle, is she?”

I allow myself the eye roll making Liz laugh again.

Hallelujah. What else do I need to do to make you do that again?

“No. I’m a little afraid of what she’s plotting, now that she’s walked in on what she thinks she walked in on.”

Liz grins at that, pulling her hair into a knot with the scrunchie she wears on her wrist.

“What do you mean?”

“She made it clear to me that our moms have been hoping…” Rubbing my nose of a phantom itch. I hesitate to finish the thought. Not knowing how to explain it without reminding her of the fact that her mom isn’t here or putting more pressure on her.

“I bet they did.”

She doesn’t look surprised at all.

“Oh?”

“We can talk about my mom, Brad. It’s okay to talk about her around me. It makes me feel like she’s still here with me somehow.”

I give her arm a gentle squeeze before taking her backpack from her.

She eyes my awkward movements, tilting her head in thought.

“Brad?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Dropping all pretense of restraint, I cup her face. For a breadth of a moment, I simply look at her trying to convey everything I feel and want to say.

She may not have said the words back to me, but I see it in the way she looks at me right now. I feel it in my gut.

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