20. Guilty People Shouldn’t Ask Questions
I DO MY best to fluff up my hair and straighten out the black shirt I”m wearing as I shift around in the chair behind Vincent”s desk. When I realized it was Sunday, I went into a full-on panic because I knew my boys would worry if they weren’t able to get ahold of me.
I was all prepared for a knockdown drag out with Vincent over Internet access, but he brought me straight into his office, pulled up my Zoom account, and left me alone with a cup of coffee. I”m assuming the access is limited, but I don”t really have time to find out, because a smiling face pops up on the screen in front of me.
”Hey, Momma.” Holden, my older son, looks well-rested and relaxed, which does my momma heart good.
”Hey.” I smile back at him, leaning forward in the seat. ”You look great. How”s everything going?”
”Things are good. I really think I”m gonna enjoy my classes this semester, so that”s nice.”
”That is nice.” Holden is in the middle of his third year studying programming and information technology. I was ridiculously proud when he decided to go into the same field I love so much, but he”s always been a little more prone to stress and anxiety, so I was also concerned it might not be a career he would thrive in. His first two years at college were tough, and I was really worried I might be right, but seeing him looking so happy relieves a little of my own stress and anxiety regarding the situation.
The screen we’re sharing splits a third way and Kyler, my younger son, pops into view. His appearance is a stark contrast to his brother’s. Where Holden is wide awake and always comes in on time, looking fresh from the shower, Kyler is a little more of a free spirit. He’s generally a few minutes late and usually hung over. It”s not a thrilling thing considering he’s still technically underage, but I was once a college student too, so I understand and try not to give him too much shit.
I do still give him some shit though. It”s my motherly duty.
“It”s about time you got here.” I lift my brows. ”You look a little rough. Wild night?”
Kyler”s brow angles, and he gives me a smirk. ”You shouldn”t be asking too many questions considering you”re in somebody else”s house.” His face zooms in on the screen. ”And wearing somebody else”s clothes.”
My mouth drops open. I expected them to notice I wasn”t in my condo, but I didn”t for a second think they would pay attention to what I was wearing.
Kyler barks out a laugh, his expression turning stunned. ”Holy shit, mom. I was just giving you a hard time.” One hand clamps over his mouth as he continues laughing. ”Are you really wearing somebody else”s clothes?”
I have no idea how to handle the situation, so my mouth opens, but instead of words coming out, I make some sort of weird squeaking noise.
Which sets both my sons off into a fit of laughter. I had friends who raised daughters, and while I always believed kids are kids, there”s no denying there are some differences between sons and daughters. Especially when it comes to talking about sex.
I heard more penis and ball talk during their teenage years than I ever anticipated, and answered a litany of questions that would make even the most experienced woman blush. Probably because they knew their father was too uptight to discuss anything with them, so all their concerns and discoveries were unloaded directly onto me. Whether I wanted to hear it or not.
”It”s not like that.” I try to explain, but it is exactly like that. I am wearing a man”s clothes. I am sitting in his house. And I”m pretty sure I just felt a little of his jizz leak free when I shifted. I would be the embodiment of the walk of shame, except I can’t actually go anywhere.
When Holden finally catches his breath, he shakes his head. ”It’s about fucking time you got laid.”
I press one hand to my forehead, squeezing my temples with my thumb and fingers. ”We”re not having this conversation.”
”Why not? It”s just sex.” Kyler tries to brush this whole thing off into a category I”m not sure it fits in, and he must see it on my face, because his eyes widen. ”Is it just sex?”
I should not be talking about this with them. But I”m not allowed to talk to anybody else, and they’re my sons. They don”t need to know the nitty-gritty, but they deserve to know where I am and the basics of what”s going on. ”It”s complicated.”
Now it”s Holden”s turn to look surprised. ”Oh shit. You”re in a whole thing.”
I look between their faces. ”A whole thing?”
”A one-night stand isn’t a whole thing.” Kyler”s the one who decides to explain this to me. ”Relationships are a whole thing.”
Everything has been so crazy that I haven”t really had time to think about what’s going on.
Okay, that”s a lie. I try to think about what”s going on, but I keep running into a wall. A large, grumpy, silver fox-shaped wall.
”I”ve sort of crossed paths with someone, and things are just a little up in the air.” That sounds like a decent explanation.
”So does that mean he”s from Nashville?” Holden’s head tips forward and his voice drops. ”Please tell me you didn”t meet him on Tinder.”
”I didn”t meet him on Tinder.” I pause. ”I met him through the Internet.” I”m really managing to make this sound not too terrible, and I feel like I should pat myself on the back.
”So he”s not from Nashville?” Holden’s words are slow. Like he”s trying to pick apart the information I”m offering. That”s a problem, because he is one hundred percent my son. He loves solving problems and digging into data. That”s probably why he decided on a similar career path to the one I chose. ”No. He”s not from Nashville.”
”So if you”re at his place, then you”re not in Nashville.” Holden leans closer, expression serious. ”Where are you?”
I have to tell them. I can”t lie to my children about where I am. What if they need me? ”I”m in Alaska. ”
”Jesus Christ.”
”Holy shit.”
Both my sons react at the same time, and it makes me cringe, because there”s no way for me to spin that to make it sound reasonable.
”How the fuck did you get to Alaska?” Holden rakes one hand through the waves of his dark hair. ”How long have you been there?”
”I haven”t been here long. I just got here...” I have to think, because it feels so much longer than it”s actually been. ”Early yesterday morning.”
Both of my sons stare at me for a second, looking at me like I”ve lost my mind. Finally Kyler speaks up. ”So you flew to Alaska to meet a man you found on the Internet?”
I laugh, the sound a little higher pitched than it should be because he thinks it”s worse than it is, and that’s a little bit of a relief. ”No. I met him in Nashville.”
Holden is still watching me with an appraising gaze. ”So he came to Nashville to meet you.”
Holy shit. Is this how Vincent feels when I don”t stop asking him questions? Probably, but I can”t just tell them they can”t ask me anything more, so I just plow forward. ”Yeah. He came to meet me in Nashville.”
Technically, he did.
Holden scoffs. ”How long have you known this guy?”
I perk up a little because this answer is going to sound great. Especially compared to everything else. ”Six months.”
”And you didn”t tell us about him before now?” Holden almost looks hurt.
Obviously that answer wasn”t as great as I expected it to be.
”I just wasn”t sure where it was going to go.” Technically, I’m still not sure where it”s going.
”So are you staying in Alaska? Are you going back to Nashville? What”s the plan?” Kyler shocks me with his question. Of my two sons, he”s the last one I would expect to want me to have firm plans in place.
”I”m not sure.” I answer honestly. Considering three men were recently murdered there, I”m not necessarily in a rush to go back to my condo. But I”m not going to tell them that.
I”m also not sure what Vincent is thinking. Looking at it rationally, it”s hard to imagine a man who”s been single his whole life would suddenly decide to move a woman into his home and his life permanently, so, regardless of what I may or may not want, it feels silly to hope for that.
And I”m too grown to be silly.
”I guess keep us posted then.” Kyler lifts one shoulder and lets it drop, seeming more like the son I know and love. ”We just need to know where to come crash during breaks.”
The comment sends my stomach sinking. Vincent wouldn”t want my kids here. He doesn”t even have a second bedroom, where in the hell would they even stay?
I plaster on a smile, suddenly feeling very uncertain about everything. ”Okay.”
Thankfully, the conversation shifts to them. Their school. Their jobs. Their roommates and whether or not it”s normal to poop three times a day.
After an hour with my boys, I”m usually in a great mood and feeling happy and content with my life, but not this time. This time when I end our weekly chat, I”m entirely off balance. Confused about where my life is headed and who”s going to be in it.
I don”t even bother trying to hack into Vincent’s system after closing out the Zoom window. I don”t really care what’s there. I just want to find him. Ask more of the questions I know drive him a little crazy. It’s my new favorite hobby and usually leads to my other new favorite hobby—getting railed by Vincent.
I leave his office and go down the hall, making my way toward the kitchen. It”s late enough in the day that the sun is at full power. It won’t be around for long, so I pause to enjoy the light streaming into the house.
I really do love this place. It’s open and airy and soothing. And no one”s been killed here. At least I assume not.
After taking another deep breath, I go into the kitchen. Unfortunately, I don”t find Vincent. I do find someone else though.
Vera”s eyes jump to mine, and she looks at me like a deer in headlights. Vincent’s housekeeper is probably in her mid-sixties, and shorter than me by a few inches. Her hair is dyed black and cut short. She probably weighs less than a hundred pounds soaking wet, and the deep tan of her wrinkled skin makes me think she’s dedicated a good portion of her life to laying in a tanning bed.
I give her a smile, not really sure how to handle the situation. ”Hi. I”m Julieanne.”
She eyes me for a second before going back to the dishwasher she’s unloading. ”I know who you are.”
The smile on my face turns more genuine because her expression, mannerisms, and tone remind me of someone else, and somehow that puts me at ease.
”Thank you for making dinner last night. It was amazing.” I move to the counter, resting my hands on the smooth surface. ”And only partly because I didn”t have to make it myself.”
Vera gives me another look, her expression staying stern. ”You talkin’ to your sons back there?”
I nod. ”They’re in college. We talk every Sunday morning.” I tip my head from side to side. ”Morning to them.”
Vera continues watching me with an appraising gaze. She runs her tongue across the bright white of her teeth, sucking it before turning away. ”Vincent said to tell you he had to go to work for a little bit, but he’d be back. Said your things should get here while he”s gone.”
That pulls a sigh of relief from me. I’ve spent a lifetime hating bras, but they’re right when they say you don”t know what you’ve got until it”s gone. And right now, I would kill to have the girls supported the way they deserve. ”That”s great.”
Vera grunts, much like Vincent does, and I almost laugh.
”I”m gonna assume you”re the one I have to thank for the robe, too.”
Vera shrugs. ”Vincent gives me a list. I get what”s on it.”
I chew my lower lip, weighing my options, but decide it”s worth a shot. ”Have you worked for Vincent a long time?”
Vera”s eyes come my way, her expression saying, ‘I can”t believe you really just asked me that’. ”Long enough.”
It looks like Vera”s gonna take a little longer to warm up to me than Vincent did, and that”s okay.
”Well I’m glad he had you.” I motion to the dishwasher she’s emptying. ”Is there anything I can help with?”
Her eyes narrow and I get the feeling she”s back to being suspicious of me. ”Nope.”
I keep smiling because Vera”s the only person I have to talk to, and whether she knows it or not, she”s going to be my friend. ”Okay. I”m going to go take a shower then.”
Vincent’s housekeeper glares at me again, and I have to press my lips together as I turn away to keep from laughing. Somehow he found a smaller, older, crabbier version of himself to hire as a housekeeper, and I kind of love it.
Once I’m sequestered in Vincent”s beautiful bathroom, I go to work getting ready. It”s not as easy since I don”t have any of my own products, but hopefully whoever packed up my essentials included the toiletries from my bathroom. If not, maybe I can convince Vincent to put a few of them on Vera”s next list.
I shower and towel off, using my fingers to strategically twist my curls into something less lioness-ish before pulling on a fresh pair of Vincent’s sweatpants, socks, and a new long-sleeved, black T-shirt. I come out of the bathroom, ready to take another stab at becoming BFFs with Vera, and find her standing at the open door leading to the garage, a frown on her face. She turns my way, looking me up and down. ”Your stuff is here.” She turns away and marches past me into the laundry room, the exterior door there slamming as she goes outside.
She did not seem happy.
I glance out one of the many windows and find her hiking down a paved walk leading to a second structure.
Holy shit. Vera”s got a whole damn house of her own back there. Go Vera.
After watching her disappear into a building that looks more than a little similar to Vincent’s house, I decide I”m ready for that bra I’ve been dreaming about and hurry across the tile to the door she left open.
And I stop short.
”What the fuck?” I expected to see some of my clothes and the stuff from my bathroom. Maybe my computer if I was lucky.
But the garage is now packed with the entire contents of my condo. Labeled boxes are stacked up one side of the unused bay. The other half of that side contains every bit of furniture I possess, all of it wrapped in padding and protective clear film.
This has to be a mistake. Surely Vincent didn”t mean for them to send everything here.
Right?