Did he have the hearing of a bat, or did I sound like an elephant running around? I grabbed the relationship guide and stuffed it under my sweater before I tucked the front into my waistband.
I flipped the locks and flung the door open.
Anything I was about to say was stuck in my throat when I saw him. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a couple days. His long sleeves were rolled up, revealing a long scratch on his forearm.
“Erm…” I pointed at the scratch.
“Oh, an accident mounting a modem.” He hurried and pushed the sleeve down. “I came to get my bag of clothes I left here. And the hats.”
I swung the door open wide and motioned for him to come inside. Shutting the door behind him, I pointed to the outgoing box before I remembered exactly what had happened to his bag of clothes.
He picked up the damp laundry bag. A stray cuff stuck out of the top. When he tried to pull it out, the entire cuff pulled off the shirt. He looked at me with raised eyebrows.
I studied the doorframe above his head. “Dryer malfunction?”
“Sure.” Shaking his head, he turned back to the outgoing box and picked up the bag with all of our SF hats. “Thanks for not cutting these up.”
I nodded. Could anything get more awkward than the ceremonial giving back stuff after a breakup? I’d never been overly serious with any boyfriends before Fletcher. This was a different break-up dynamic than I was used to. Too many shared histories. Too many shared dreams. And now we were going our separate ways. No matter that this was the right choice, it still hurt.
The heaviness in the air slowed time as he turned to face the door.
“I’ll go then,” he said quietly. Shifting both bags to one hand, he opened the front door. He stopped before he stepped outside. “Saidy, I hope you know you can call me. For anything.”
I cleared my throat and bit back the retort about him never answering his phone. “I appreciate that. Maybe we can be friends at least.”
With a jerky nod, he closed the door after himself.
A honk in the driveway pulled my attention away briefly from the relationship guide. Yes, the one I’d sat down and immediately started reading after Fletcher left.
Another honk pulled me from a riveting article about him buying you the perfect gift and how much you could tell about him from that.
The honking was definitely my mother.
She always was a honker. Drove Dad crazy anytime he let her drive.
I set the magazine on the coffee table, then gathered my purse, keys, and new gift card before I headed outside and locked the door.
My mom’s white suburban was so big that it still stuck out halfway in the street with her parked behind my car.
This was exactly why we liked to take her car when we went shopping together. We could fit so much more in it.
I opened the passenger door and climbed in.
Mom leaned over and gave me a hug and a kiss. “Hi, sweetie, how are you?”
“I’m okay.”
Mom nodded but didn’t comment. She knew something was off. Moms always knew.
“Shopping first, then dinner?” she asked as she backed out of the driveway without checking for traffic. Probably the main reason she used her horn so much.
“That sounds great. I’ve got money to spend!” I pulled out my gift card and the work credit card, showing them to her. My budget shoppers wanted me to renovate their kitchen with a five-hundred dollar spend limit. Comical. But I was up for the challenge.
“Does this mean you’re shopping for the new design job you got?”
I’d informed Mom about my complete home job the minute I landed it. Usually, clients wanted one room decorated. Sometimes the whole main living space. But every once in a while, I’d find a client who wanted me to decorate their entire house. Those were my favorite jobs.
“Yes—and a small kitchen reno. I can’t wait. I know exactly what I’m looking for. It’s going to be so much fun.”
Mom practically bounced up and down in her seat. “There’s a new boutique in old town. They have some really cute furniture pieces. We should go there first because they usually close early in the evening.”
“Perfect!”
We spent the next hour wandering around the little boutique. We found the perfect entryway shelf and a coffee table, along with bedding sets for all the bedrooms.
Mom laid down the back two rows of her Suburban so that we could fill up the back. I knew the whole car would be full before we were finished shopping that night. My mom was the one who had started my love of all things design. She had never done any professional design, but her home was always a beautiful thing, and she was the woman whom all her friends went to for design advice.
“Where to next?” Mom asked as we sat at an intersection.
“Do you mind if we go to that lighting store close to the shopping center first? I need to see how long it will take them to get me the chandelier that I want for the dining room.”
“Let’s go. I need to do some shopping there too.”
“Really? What are you thinking of changing?”
Mom looked at me with a guilty smile. “Well, I have some news.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“What? No! Heavens, I’m fifty-five.” The blood drained from her face at the thought. “Don’t even joke about something like that.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. One of my mom’s best friends had had a surprise pregnancy—right after she had her first grandchild. My mom had been paranoid it would happen to her ever since. “Then, what is it?” I asked cautiously as I pulled out my paint chips from my purse. I had them tucked right next to the tile samples. I needed to match the
