“Absolutely not,” I nearly shout, slamming down the bottle. “Come on, Evan.”
“What?”
“Have you seen me?” I ask, suddenly insecure.
“I see you every day.”
“I’m a mess. Some days I ask myself how I’ve managed to bring up a son like you without messing you up, too.”
“Maybe because you’re a beautiful mess.”
I smile at him, gratefully.
“You’re only saying that because you’re my son.”
“I’m saying it because I know what I see and I know who you are, Mum.”
I hug him tightly. “Thank you, darling.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you fancy watching one of those terrifying Netflix shows?” I ask him hopefully.
“But you don’t like them.”
“But you do, and I want to stay up with you for a while.”
“I have school tomorrow.”
I take a look at the time. “It’s eleven. Come on, just for half an hour – one episode.”
“I’ll grab the popcorn.”
As I watch him look for the bag, pour the popcorn into a bowl, and get himself a drink, I tell myself that it’s fine like this – we don’t need anyone else. And I definitely don’t need to lose my mind over a bastard like him.
No, absolutely not. I’m fine.We’refine.
So why is it that, when I get into bed at night, my last thought is of two strong arms wrapping themselves around me?
