“Sure,” I mutter. “If you don’t hear about it from Little Birdie first.”
Beau knocks on my door. “Dot?”
“I’ll call you later, Rue,” I say into the phone.
“Bye,” she says, and I hang up.
Beau opens the door, and I frown when I notice his brows drawn together. His mouth pinched together in worry. “What’s up?”
“Have you talked to Aunt Lucille?”
I try to think back to my last conversation with my aunt, but I come up empty. “No. But I’ve been in contact with Mom. She’s supposed to come home tomorrow because the play is next week. I can’t believe we get to see her. I know I was worried before about her not being ready to come home, but I think it’s been long enough, don’t you?”
“I guess,” Beau says, waving my chatter away with his hand. “But have you talked toAunt Lucille?”
“I already said no.” I feel a prick of irritation at him. Mom is coming home.Mom.It’s been so long since we’ve seen her. I don’t want anything to ruin it.
“Well, neither have I,” he says. “She hasn’t returned any of my messages, and I think it’s fishy. What are the odds that I can’t get ahold of her right before Mom comes home?”
“What does it matter, Beau?” I freshen my mascara with a new coat while he prattles on.
“It matters a lot. What if Mom isn’t ready to come home? Shouldn’t we talk to Aunt Lucille first? Find out if she’s being honest about her progress?”
“I get why you’re worried, but I trust Mom. And so should you.” The words come out a little harsher than I intend them, especially since I don’t fully trust Mom’s judgement, but I don’t care. I need to see her. I miss her. It’s been longer than any of us has wanted, and part of me is worried her coming back is too good to be true. In fact, I’m much more worried about her not showing up at all than lying about her progress. She wouldn’t do something like that after all this time.
I refuse to let Beau’s cynical suspicions become my worries, too.
“I’m trying to get ready for a date. So, if there’s anything else you want to dissect, maybe you should call Dad.”
“Whatever,” he mutters. He stomps out of my room and slams the door. A pinprick of guilt pokes me, but my desire to see Mom is stronger. Let Beau overthink things. He’ll see. Everything will be fine. Mom will come home, she’ll see the play, and then she’ll return to Aunt Lucille’s to continue treatment. If she were in an actual rehabilitation facility, coming home might not be an option yet. He should be grateful.
My phone rings. When I see Zayne’s name on the screen, butterflies dance in my stomach. I answer his call, shaking awaymy irritation with Beau so I don’t sound rude when I talk. “Are you here?”
“Yeah, I’m right outside,” he says. “You ready?”
“Just about. See you in a minute.” I hang up the phone and grab my purse. I add a scarf and leather jacket to my outfit before heading outside. Zayne is sitting in his idle car, parked on the street in front of my house. When I get in the passenger seat, I notice he’s wearing a grey shirt with buttons, and jeans. “You look nice.”
He tugs on the end of one of my braids. “So do you.”
“Now do I get to know where we’re going?”
“Nope.” He flashes a grin. “But the sooner you put your seatbelt on, the sooner you’ll get to find out.”
“Fine.” A smile tugs at my lips as he starts driving. “I’m so excited to see my mom tomorrow.”
“I bet. I can’t wait to meet her.”
“She’ll like you.”
“She’s okay with you having a boyfriend?”
I laugh. “Oh, yeah. My mom isn’t very strict. Never has been. She’s supportive to the end. Same with my dad.”
“You’re lucky to have parents like that,” he says. “Not many others do.”
“I know.” I stare at my lap. I can’t help that my mind goes to Carlton. I know how much pressure his parents put on him to lead the life they envisioned for him. I’m not sure if he wants it too, or if everything he does, if all his efforts are exhausted to make his parents proud.
Zayne parks in front of a building with a flashing neon sign in the window that readsNickel City.
