Chapter 45
Afterglow Meets Aftershock
Tessa
After letting myself in through the front door, I didn't even try to sleep. Instead, in the quiet of Maisie's house, I relived my time with Ryder on a non-stop loop, beginning with me calling up to him on his balcony and ending with kiss number-three on Maisie's front porch.
And this kiss? Number three? Wow. It should've been illegal. My knees had gone soft, my brain had gone fuzzy, and for a solid ten seconds, I'd nearly forgotten my own name.
This had been an hour ago, and already I was dying to kiss him again.
Of course, nothing was guaranteed – not a kiss number-four, not a regular date, and certainly not my own sanity if I didn't get a better grip on all of my troubles.
Still, I felt lighter than I had in days – all funny and floaty – in spite of the fact that my buzz from the booze had already faded like mist off the lake.
And speaking of buzzing, I felt my cellphone vibrate in my pocket.
I smiled. Ryder?
We'd keyed our contact info into each other's phones, so it wasn't completely impossible. But would he really call so soon?
When I checked my phone, my smile faltered. It wasn't Ryder.
It was Mom.
My stomach dropped. A call in the middle of the night could never be good. As a million awful scenarios raced through my mind, I answered with a nervous, "Hello?"
"Good Morning!" she said, all sunshine and sparkles.
I hesitated. "Morning? But it's the middle of the night."
"Well, maybe where you are."
"You mean…Michigan?" Oh, crap. The blood drained from my face as I recalled that I was supposed to be in Florida.
I was just preparing to backpedal when she said with a little laugh, "Oh, please. If I were in Michigan, I wouldn't be calling on Paris time, now would I?"
My grip tightened on the phone. Oh, no.
It was vintage Mom. Not only had she not been listening, she'd managed to turn the topic to herself in no time flat.
But this wasn't what made me swallow hard enough to choke on nothing. "Paris? That's where you are?" I felt sick at the thought. Before the money had run out, Mom had popped over to Paris at least twice a year – usually in the spring and fall.
She had never taken me or Delaney. And forget my dad.
No. She went alone. And I was pretty sure I knew why.
Was she having an affair?
Sure. Except it was with Louis Vuitton, plus a whole lot more. She wasn't a single-shop kind of gal.
And now, from somewhere in Paris, she pulled out her perfect French accent to reply, "Oui oui oui!"
Good Lord. As she said it, I imagined that fifth little piggie – the one in the nursery rhyme who cried "Wee, wee, wee" all the way home – except in this case, the piggie was me, because crying wasn't exactly out of the question.
Beyond horrified, I asked, "But how can you afford it?"
Her good humor vanished. "That's the first thing you ask?"
"Well, it does seem pretty important." But then, deliberately, I softened my tone. "I'm just worried, that's all."
She gave a dramatic sigh. "Don't be. It's fine."
The hell it was. Mom still owed me three thousand dollars, which would've come in extra-handy for paying my rent.
Even so, I felt like a total killjoy. Yes, I knew it was stupid, but old habits died hard, and she'd always been good at making me feel like I was the reigning queen of the Worry-Wart Olympics.
Now, I didn't know what to say. If I said anything critical, I'd be ruining her fun. But if I let it slide, I'd spend days stewing in concern. And, this time, there'd be a nice dose of anger over the fact that she'd rather see me lose my apartment than skimp on her shopping.
An awkward silence hung between us until she said, "Look, I found some money, okay? And I haven't been to Paris in years."
"Three years," I clarified, as if to remind her that it wasn't fifty like she made it sound.
"Exactly!" she said. "And until now, I was having a lovely time."
No doubt.
But with what money?
I couldn't contain my sarcasm. "Well, that's just terrific."
She brightened. "I know, right?"
Talk about clueless. Grudgingly, I said, "But I guess it doesn't matter anyway. My apartment's probably already gone."
Something in my stomach twisted. If this was true, where was my stuff?
I'd been trying not to speculate, but now, I simply couldn't help it. Did they put it in storage? Or sell it for cash?
Probably, I should've rushed down to Chicago the first moment I'd heard about that eviction notice. But in my own defense, I'd been so sure that somebody from the property management company would call me right back.
But had they?
To quote Ryder, Nope.
On the phone, my mom asked, "Why do you think I'm calling you?"
To gloat? But instead, I mumbled, "I dunno…to say hi?"
"No, Silly," she said. "I called to let you know that your apartment is fine."
The news hit like a thunderbolt. "Wait…are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious," she said with a little laugh. "I called you from Paris, didn't I?"
I was so flabbergasted, I could hardly speak. "Um, yeah…I guess."
"So stop worrying, alright? I met with your landlord on my way to O'Hare and—"
"Wait…what landlord?"
"Oh, you know…a rep from the management company. Anyway…it's all settled."
With my heart in my throat, I asked, "And what about my stuff?"
"It's fine, just like I said." A satisfied smile crept into her voice. "And here, you thought I wouldn't help."
Heat rushed to my face. I had thought that.
But the last time we'd talked, she had pretty much told me I was on my own.
Hadn't she?
I was so overwhelmed, I hardly knew what to say. "Well…it's just that, um…" My voice softened as I belatedly found the right words. "Thanks, Mom. Seriously. That was really nice of you."
"Oh, don't worry about it," she said in that breezy way of hers. "Anyway, you're settled for two full months." But then, her tone turned serious. "You will be back by then, won't you?"
I sure as heck hoped so. "Um…probably."
"Well, don't let it go too long," she said. "I can't be toddling down to Chicago every month. Oh, drat! Look at the time. Sorry, gotta run!"
"But wait! I hate to ask, but how'd you manage it? I mean…with the money?" I winced. "And, uh…do I owe you anything?"
"Me?" she laughed. "Nah."
I blinked. "Seriously?" Even factoring in the three thousand she'd borrowed last Christmas, her answer was still a little shocking.
"Tell ya what," she said. "Bring me something sweet from Miami, and we'll call it good."
Wow. Now that was sweet, especially coming from Mom.
As far as bringing her anything from Miami, this would be a tall order, since I was on the opposite side of the country. But I didn't sweat it. Mackinac Island had plenty of things that were sweet, including world-famous fudge that I could claim had come from just about anywhere.
I smiled. "Definitely." Probably, I should've left it there, but as the family worry wart, I couldn't let it go. It wasn't lost on me that she never did answer my question about the source of her windfall. "But hey, can I ask you something?"
"As long as you make it quick."
"Don't get me wrong. I'm really happy, it's just that…I'm kind of wondering…where'd you come up with the money?"
"Oh, that?" she said. "I got it from Delaney."