Is it possible my mother missed me?
“Do you have any plans?” she asks. “Your thirtieth is a milestone worth celebrating.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets. “My friends are throwing me a surprise party.”
“Well, that hardly sounds like a surprise,” she murmurs.
I push out a laugh, still acting casual. I’m a duck, remember? No ruffled feathers. “My friends are pretty terrible at keeping secrets, and I’m pretty terrible at pretending, so, yeah.”
Hear that, Mom? This is all real. One hundred percent authentic.
Quack.
“I do wonder.” She taps her chin with a fingertip. “Might there be room for one more guest?”
I stifle a smirk. “You want to come play darts and drink beer with my teacher friends?”
“Well.” She smooths her hand down her skirt. “I might wear different shoes.”
This earns her a genuine laugh.
My mother’s pretty funny, I’ll give you that. She’s also thrown her weight around way too hard for too long for me to just bury the hatchet. But she’s here now. And me being nice to her probably has no downside.
Probably.
So. I’ll tell her she can come, then make it my mission to get her to leave before the weekend.
As soon as possible, preferably.
“Sure, Mom.” I hitch my shoulders. “Just promise to look surprised.”
“How’s this?” She gasps, popping her eyes wide. Her hand flies to her mouth, and her forehead lifts all the way to her hairline.
I chuckle. “Shockingly good, actually.”
“I’m overdue for Botox,” she deadpans. “Fortunate timing.”
Yep. Like I said. She’s pretty funny. And also a professional intimidator, who’s brilliant at getting people to lower their defenses. So I have to keep mine up, for my own sake and for Loren’s.
Speaking of which.
I should warn her that my mom’s here. She’s over at Havenwood now, with Sayla. So I slip my phone from my pocket of my sweats and open my messages.
My mother clears her throat. “Planning to call Loren?”
I look up. “I thought I’d text her, actually. Mywifeisn’t much of a phone talker.”
I put some extra emphasis on the word wife, to nail the point home. Subtle? No. True? Yes.
“Don’t,” my mother says.
“Don’t what?”
“Tell her I’m here.”
Uh. What?
“She should know we have a visitor.” I shift my weight. “A VIP, at that.”