5. Chapter 5 #2
Yeah, that and a bunch of other things now that we’ve had this conversation , I say to myself.
“You, Lark Caspian, are smoking hot. And not ‘hot for almost forty’ or ‘hot for a mom.’ Not even ‘ I have to say this because you’re my friend hot.’ Objectively hot.
This”—she waves a hand up and down indicating me—“is princess-level shit. Giant blue eyes. Blonde hair that is only ever in ringlets, and I’m still not sure how you do it after knowing you for the better part of a decade. Adorable freckles.”
This is starting to get weird. “You’re making me sound like Shirley Temple,” I grouse.
“That’s because I thought commenting on your bombshell curves and long legs would make it awkward. But that’s true, too. You could have any guy you wanted, including Hot Lennon.”
“Can you stop calling him that?”
“Why? Jealous?”
I blink at her. “No.”
“Okay.” She says it like she doesn’t believe me, then she laughs.
“I’m so glad my distress is a source of amusement for you,” I intone.
Her expression falls to one of sincerity.
“It’s not. I swear.” She takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly.
“Listen, I have so much respect for you. Raising an amazing kid, getting your master’s, landing a full professorship here, not to mention all the shit you had to deal with while you were doing it.
But I’ve never seen you date. Or, for that matter, perform.
I kind of thought you’d get back into at least one of those things when Devin got older, but you didn’t.
And it’s none of my business why,” she clarifies quickly, “but this is a chance for you to do both. Maybe you won’t hook up with Hot Lennon.
But you can do something I know you love doing, and maybe bang a Los Angeles himbo in the process.
And then come back and tell me all about it.
” Her words are crass, but her smile is genuine.
I return it, even as my stomach flops with new fears I didn’t know I had until just now.
“You’re right,” I admit. “I think half the reason he suggested this in the first place is because he caught me in a midlife-crisis moment and felt bad. He’s trying to shake me out of it.
” I shrug. “And I probably agreed because I do need this. Not to ‘bang a hot himbo,’ necessarily, but to do something…else. Just for a little while.”
Hannah nods sagely as if she came to that conclusion a while ago. Who knows. Maybe she did. Maybe everyone knows more about what I need than I do. I just wish they’d loop me in on it every once in a while.
“Okay, so what’s first? Getting you a bathing suit that’ll turn heads?” she asks.
I laugh, and some of the butterflies in my stomach calm slightly. “I suppose the first thing I need to do is record my audition. He didn’t tell me what to record, so I guess I’ll send the first chapter?” I honestly have no idea what the right way to go about this is.
Hannah’s expression goes blank again, then she suddenly starts to cackle.
I lay my palms on my desktop, trying not to clench my fists in irritation. “What?”
She dabs fake tears away from her eyes. Over-acter , I think.
“You haven’t read the book yet, have you?” she asks through her residual laughter.
“No,” I admit. “I bought it when it came out, but I haven’t had a chance to read it. I was going to thumb through it today to make some character notes, but then I got roped into this conversation.” I raise an eyebrow at her.
She hasn’t stopped laughing, though it seems like she’s trying to hold back. “The book opens with the couple hooking up in a storage room closet.”
“It does not.” Maybe if I say it, I can will it to be true.
Hannah snorts, then covers her mouth again. “It does.”
I drop my forehead to the desk in front of me, then bang it a few times for good measure. “I can’t do this.”
“It’s a brilliant example of starting a story in medias res , actually,” Hannah says in her best professor voice.
“I seriously can’t do this,” I say louder, though it’s still directed at the floor.
“You can, and you will.” She’s all business now, and I’m wondering where that was a moment ago. It would have been more helpful than her hysteria. “Come on, slugger. I’ll help you find a good passage to send in, and you can get it recorded here before you head home for the night.”
***
After a lot of back-and-forth and some procrastination with a discussion about who is going to watch my townhouse while I’m gone, Hannah ultimately ends up offering to house-sit and then persuading—ahem, bullying—me to go ahead and record the first chapter.
I do it right in the office because I don’t have access to a recording booth, and Lennon had said it didn’t matter. They just need to hear my voice.
Hannah wasn’t lying about it starting right in the middle of the action, so to speak, and even though she wisely excuses herself while I record it, I don’t know if my face has ever felt so hot for so long in my life. I blush through the entire thing like some kind of prude.
I send the unedited take to Lennon before I can overthink it.
It’d be his job to edit it anyway, so as soon as I get a take that’s as clean as possible, I let him have it.
I shut down my computer and put my phone on silent before heading home.
If Lennon listens to this and calls me, I don’t want to know about it.
I need some time for the flames licking my cheeks to calm down before I talk to him.
By the time I pull into our garage, Devin is already home.
When I open the front door, I’m greeted by the scent of garlic, onions, and tomatoes.
I toe off my shoes and drop by bag near the door before making my way to the kitchen.
Devin is at the stove, her dark ponytail bouncing as she dances back and forth in front of the stove.
She’s stirring what looks like marinara sauce, and there’s another, larger pot of boiling water next to it.
“You cooked dinner?” I try not to sound incredulous, but this almost never happens. “What’s the occasion?”
She glances over her shoulder at me and smiles.
Her coloring is Richard’s—dark hair and eyes, an olive skin tone, and no freckles to speak of—but her face is all mine.
Large eyes, full pink lips, and a heart-shaped face ending in a cute, pointed chin.
Princess-level shit indeed. Maybe Hannah had a point earlier today.
I know I’m biased, but Devin is a beautiful girl.
Maybe, if my genes had anything to do with that, I’m not so bad myself.
I straighten my posture a bit as I sit in the kitchen chair.
Devin shrugs as she turns back to the stove.
“Coach suggested I try carb-loading this week before our last meet, so I stopped at the store and figured I could handle making pasta.” She pauses like she’s unsure if she should say the next thing, but then she goes for it.
“And I’m going to have to cook for myself pretty soon, anyway. ”
Well, that hurt like hell. I rub my chest as if that could take the pain away.
She whips around as if she knew the knife she just threw hit a bullseye. “Plus, you work so hard. I wanted to, like, show my appreciation or something,” she adds quickly.
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “Gee. Thanks, kid.”
She slinks into the table, leaving the pasta to cook and the sauce to simmer.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I know you’re going to miss me.
” She chews on her lip as her gaze falls to the table.
“I’m going to miss you, too. I think it kind of just hit me today that in a few weeks I’ll be gone and…
” She trails off. Her dark eyes start to shine with unshed tears.
I reach out a hand to cover hers where they’re clasped on top of the table.
“What are you going to do?” she asks quietly. “Will you be lonely?”
I blink away my own tears at this unexpected and completely unprecedented display of teenage empathy. She’s a good kid , Lennon’s voice echoes in my mind. I pat her hands a few times.
She’s the best kid.
I huff a small laugh. “Funny you should ask, actually. I wanted to talk to you about that tonight.” The kitchen timer goes off. “Let’s get some food first, huh? It smells amazing.”
Devin preens at the compliment. She jumps up, insisting that I stay seated so she can serve me. She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I settle in and let her bring a plate of pasta to me.
I’m going to miss her like hell. Which makes me all the more certain that I need to do this thing in LA, if only to get my mind off of how much of a hole she’s leaving in my life.
Once we’ve eaten a bit and I’ve sufficiently embarrassed her with compliments about how delicious the food is, I lay out the entire opportunity Lennon has presented me with.
I try to ham up my excitement so she can stop feeling bad about leaving me, but I find I don’t have to try very hard to make it sound like I’m thrilled to be taking this on.
I gloss over the spice level of the book, but Devin is too smart for that.
She asks what book it is, and I tell her.
She doesn’t seem fazed, but when I tell her it’s a bit explicit, she levels me with one of those exasperated, teenage looks.
“Mom. I know,” she says.
I narrow my eyes at her. “What do you mean you know? Have you read it?”
She makes a disgusted face. “No, but I don’t live under a rock.” She pushes some pasta around on her plate and avoids eye contact with me when she says, “And some of my friends have.”
It never occurred to me that narrating this audiobook might have implications for Devin, and I mentally smack myself in the forehead for not considering it sooner. “Would it bother you to have your mom working on this?” I ask carefully. “I can use a stage name if you’d rather.”
Devin takes a bite and chews thoughtfully, considering the question. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for her answer.
She swallows and her dark eyes meet mine, determined.
“You’re doing this. That’s not even a question.
I don’t know how you’ve lived so long without seeing Lennon in person.
If I didn’t see Molly for ten years, I’d be so sad.
” Her eyebrows pinch together. “And I think it’s cool you’ll be narrating this book.
You deserve to have your real name on it.
” She shrugs again, as if this is no big deal.
“Anyone who gets weird about it isn’t worth my time anyway. ”
My smile stretches across my face, wide and open. I’m sure if we were in public, it’d embarrass the hell out of her, but in the privacy of our home, she returns it. I’m not quite sure how I got so lucky with her, but she’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.
“I’m so proud of you, kid,” I say.
“I’m proud of you, too, Mom.” She stands and collects my empty plate, so she isn’t looking at me when she says it, but it fills me up all the same.