“Wow. Okay.”
“And don’t fucking wink at me,” I snarled, my voice icy and dripping poison. “It’s stupid and smarmy and you just look like an idiot.”
He chuckled. “Noted.”
I glared at him as we hiked the steps to Mom’s floor. “What’s so funny?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
I knew I was being stupid and irrational, but I was helpless to stop myself. I was about to see Mom, and I knew she knew something was up, and I’d have to tell the whole stupid story all over again and I hated myself for it, and for Charlie for pulling me into this— and for thinking any of it was in any way Charlie’s fault—and at Myles for being so damned amazing even as I was being a bitch to him, because he wasn’t lashing out at me, wasn’t fighting, was just accepting my bitchiness without seeming fazed.
But I knew he was upset—I knew I’d hurt him, and that I had damage control to do.
If that was even possible anymore.
I had to set that conundrum aside for the moment, because I had bigger fish to fry—namely, my mother, and her moral expectations, which I have completely failed to uphold in pretty much every aspect of my life.
Mom opened her door as we approached, bustling out in a rush; arms open wide, and all but slammed into me, wrapping me in an unrelentingly fierce hug. It was such a warm, unexpected welcome from Mom that I very nearly got misty-eyed.
“Lexie, I’m so glad you’re here.” Mom’s voice was a low soft whisper in my ear. “I’ve missed you, my sweet girl.”
I hugged her back, letting myself, for a moment, just be that little girl way down deep inside who just wanted her mother’s love and affection. “I missed you too, Mom.” I stepped back and gestured at Myles. “Mom, this is Myles North.”
He leaned in and gave Mom a brief, cordial hug. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Goode.”
Mom shook his hand. “Call me Liv, please. It’s a real pleasure to meet you, too.” She stepped backward into the open doorway, and then spun on her heel and led the way inside.
Mom slid her palm across my cheek, up over the buzzed sides and into the messy longer top. “I like this. It suits you.” The last time I’d seen Mom in person was via video chat a few months ago, before I’d cut my hair like this. Back then, it had been one length all over, down to my shoulders; a guy I’d slept with a few times had told me he liked his girls with long hair so he had something to pull on while he drilled them from behind. Those words, verbatim.
It hadn’t been the idea of hair to yank on while being drilled from behind that I’d taken issue with—I quite enjoy that very much, thank you. It was the other two words: His girls. Ohhhh fuck no, buddy. He’d said them while in that exact position, behind me, hands in my hair; I’d kicked him off me, jumped into my clothing as fast as I could while cursing him out with every iota of indignant rage I had within me, and marched my jiggly ass straight to the nearest salon and gotten this cut. Just as a fuck you to him. I’d gone back to his dorm room, showed him my new ’do, and gave him two middle fingers. I’m not one of your girls, you rotten, chauvinistic dickbag. Those had been my words to him.
I shook thoughts of that unnamed dickbag out of my mind and focused on Mom. She was wearing a men’s button-down, the top several buttons undone to reveal more cleavage than I think she’d ever shown in all my life, certainly. The sleeves were rolled several times and still hung past her elbows, and her knees and hints of bare thigh peeked out from the edges of the lower hem. Her hair was messy, tangled, and wild—very obviously a case of just-fucked hair. This was my MOM, so…yuck.
“Mom! You said you were in the bathroom!”
She smirked at me. “I said I was indisposed, you said I was in the bathroom.”
“You were having sex?”
She shrugged, her face carefully blank. “I’m not a nun, sweetie. I spent three years alone, mourning your father, God rest him. I moved, and moved on. I have someone in my life whom I love very much and who loves me. So yes, Alexandra, I was in the middle of—well, at the end of, if you must know—making love when you rang the buzzer.”
I shuddered. “Next time, I’ll just stick with my assumption that you were pooping.”
She made a face that was a bizarre cross between a frown, puzzlement, and an amused grin. “You’d rather think I was pooping than making love to a wonderful man?”
I rubbed my face with one hand. “Mom. I don’t want to think of either one. I’m glad you’re happy, I’m glad you’ve found someone. I truly mean that—Dad is gone, and even when he wasn’t, none of us were happy, least of all you. I don’t begrudge you a happy, loving relationship with a man who treats you like you deserve to be treated. I just don’t want details of your sex life.”
She curled her arm through mine. “Lexie, honey, I think you’ll find I’m a somewhat different woman than the one you knew. Lucas has changed me, and for the better. For one thing, I’m far more open about myself, who I am, and what I want. I’m not going to hide my happiness, nor am I going to pretend I’m not a physical, affectionate woman in a relationship with a lot of sexual chemistry. I’m not giving you details; I’m just not hiding it. We’re all of us adults now, honey.”
I nodded. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my uptight, hypermoral mother?”
She laughed. “Lucas’s favorite thing to say
