Page 92 of The Write Stuff

Her lips twitched. “A nephew,” she corrected.

“That’s not any better,” I whined.

She laughed. “A neighbor boy whom I was quite fond of.”

Now it was Huxley’s turn to smile. “I missed you, too.” He cast me an unreadable look. “As for this, well, we’re together.” He moved his hand between us.

“You don’t say,” Mom replied dryly. “I never would have guessed that, what with the way you were both sharing the same doughnut.”

Huxley hung his head. “That probably looked really weird.”

“Actually, I think it was kind of cute.”

Huxley jerked up his chin. “What? You’re not going to give us a hard time about this?”

“Oh, I’m going to give you a hard time,” Mom countered. “Not because you’re together, though. The fact that you felt the need to keep it a secret, that’s a different story.” Her hands landed on her hips as she swiveled on me. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few weeks,” I replied.

Mom arched an eyebrow and waited.

“Seven weeks,” I clarified.

She cocked her head, considering, then nodded. “I have questions,” she said. “I want to know how it happened —”

“We both moved down here at the same time and ended up in the same writing group,” I blurted. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“And, what, you took one look and fell into each other’s arms?” Mick asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “Actually, we fought a little bit at the start. He brought up the Klingon.”

Mom sucked in a breath. “He did not!”

“I’m right here,” Huxley complained. “I’ve gotten over the Klingon.”

Mom gave him a dark look, although she had trouble maintaining it. “We’ll talk about the Klingon later, too.” She glanced at my apartment building, then back at us. “Lucy called, and she has a plan for her future. It involves college, but she can’t pay for all of it herself. We’re here to hammer out a plan.”

That was news to me. “She didn’t mention that.” I looked down at my feet. “She’s not really talking to me.”

“She told me.” Mom absently reached over and brushed my hair out of my face, something she did all the time when I was a teenager, and my waves got wild. “I’m here to help with that, too. She feels bad about blackmailing you. She didn’t say what she was blackmailing you over — and I honestly couldn’t imagine anything — but now I think I get it.” She offered Huxley a half-smile.

“We’re here to get Lucy on track,” she continued. “I thought maybe I was going to have to give you some tough love about getting a social life while I was here, Wylie, but apparently that’s not something I need to worry about.”

“Definitely not,” Mick agreed. “I think they have the socializing stuff down.”

My cheeks burned under their steady gazes. I remained confused, however. “Does this mean you’re not angry about us being together?”

Mom’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “Why would we be angry about you two being together?”

“Because … well, you know.” I mimed punching an invisible person. I was awkward when throwing the punch, and Huxley hung his head and started laughing.

Mom joined in. “That’s not Huxley’s fault,” she said. “It never was.” She turned to him and started shaking her head. “What happened between your mother and me …” She opened her mouth, seemingly searching for the right words, and then sighed. “I feel as if I’m stepping on her toes here. I shouldn’t be the one to talk to you about this.”

“Nobody has ever talked to me about this,” Huxley admitted.

“I know.” Mom looked distraught. “I mean, I didn’t know know. I just had a feeling.” She looked over at Mick and exchanged a significant look with him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mick said after a beat. “It’s time.” He focused on Huxley. “Let’s have that coffee now. Or breakfast. I could use something to eat. Our flight was godawful early, and I don’t eat plane food.”