Chapter 8
Payton
“ W ell, you’re up early,” Mom says as she enters the kitchen.
I snort. “You act like I’m not up this early every day.”
“True, but you rarely have this much pep in your step.” Do I have an extra pep in my step this morning? I stiffen as I pull out a chair at the kitchen table and take a seat. “Did you meet someone?”
I groan. Not this talk again. “Ugh, no, Mom, I didn’t meet someone. But I do have some news.”
Mom pours herself a cup of coffee and rounds the island to join me at the table.
“Oh? Now, don’t keep me in suspense, Payton Rose .”
For some people, like my brothers, the use of the first and middle name together can instill fear or nerves, but not me.
Mine just brings a smile to my face because of the meaning behind it and the millions of times I was told its origin story growing up.
My mother was constantly watching reruns of Golden Girls when she was pregnant with me, so while my dad picked out my first name—after his favorite football player—my mom picked my middle name after her favorite Golden Girl.
And being named after Betty White is pretty freaking badass.
Rip the Band-Aid off, Payton. If you can tell your mother that you’re having a baby and getting married, then you can tell her this with no problem.
“I’m moving out.”
“What?” she shrieks, slamming her coffee down on the table, causing a little to slosh over the side. But like I said, Connie Mosby is Mighty Mouse, so her quick reflexes cause her to miss getting burned. “Where? When? How?”
I press my lips together to keep my giggles inside. Holding my hands up, I tell her to settle down.
“You know I love you and am so thankful for everything you’ve done for me.
I swear, Gabby and I couldn’t have done it without you.
But if I stay in this house much longer, I’m worried that shit will hit the fan, and we might clash.
It’s just—” I try to find the right words to say because the last thing I want to do is hurt my mom’s feelings before she’s finished her coffee. Thankfully, my mom steps in.
“I know, I get it. It doesn’t mean I like it, of course, but I get it. I’m sure it’s tough on you to have moved out and be a full-blown adult, only to have everything happen and you end up back under your parents’ roof. But it hasn’t been all bad, has it?”
I place my hand on my mom’s hand. “No, of course not, and I really can’t thank you enough for everything. But Gabby and I need to do this.”
Mom places her hand over mine, sandwiching my hand in.
The look in her eyes makes me feel like a montage of memories is flashing in her eyes.
At least that’s what my brothers and I have come up with to describe her look.
It’s something I think every mom gets at some point or another.
I know I’m not immune to that same look.
She clears her throat and pulls her hands back to wipe under her eyes. Great, I thought hurting my mother’s feelings would be bad, so I went and made her cry instead.
“Now, do you have a place in mind that you found? Or do we get to go house shopping?”
“Actually.” I pause and take a sip of my drink. “Gabby and I are moving in with Rhyland.”
“What?” This time, I do not hold back my laughter at my mom’s reaction because it’s even bigger than when I told her we were moving out.
“Rhyland, as in Rhyland Cole—your brother’s best friend?” I love how she has to clarify, as if we know more than one Rhyland, let alone someone named Rhyland Cole.
I nod. “Yup, one and the same.” He’s so much more than my brother’s best friend, and I know Mom knows that.
Mom remains silent as she places her elbows on the table and lifts her coffee cup. While she might say nothing on the outside, I know better than to think she’s not plotting or scheming on the inside. I can hear her loud thoughts from here.
“Whatever you’re thinking, Mom, just stop.”
She mocks offense and brings one hand to her chest. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Payton. I am doing nothing of the sort.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m just surprised that you’re moving in with Rhyland. That’s all.”
I roll my eyes at her. Mom listens as I recall our conversation last night at Tilley’s.
“Hmm,” she says.
“Seriously, what?” I huff.
She waves me off. “It’s nothing. I’m happy for you, dear. It’s just I’m not the one who used to write his name in a heart or Mrs. Rhyland Cole or Mrs. Payton Cole in my diary all my childhood.”
And this is why I’m moving out.
My cheeks heat that she remembers that, not that I really think I kept that a secret as a kid. The only person who was probably oblivious to my crush was the man himself.
“Just don’t come running to me so that I can tell you I told you so.” Mom gets up and heads to the fridge before grabbing ingredients to make her breakfast. “Actually, please do so that I can tell you I told you so.”
“Told you so for what?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” she says, but I don’t believe it for a second.
“Mom, seriously, whatever you’re thinking, just stop. Rhyland and I are just friends, and he’s looking out for Gabby and me. That’s all.” Not that I would probably ever say no to the man. Great, now various fantasies are floating through my head about living together and playing house.
Cooking meals together.
Snuggling on the couch, watching movies under a blanket.
Watching Gabby and any other future children grow. Maybe even keep a height chart in the kitchen, like my parents did with the three of us.
Waking up in his arms.
Fuck! Maybe this is all a bad idea. I feel like I’m getting in way over my head. For the first time, it hits me we will be so close all the freaking time now.
Just then, Gabby’s cries come through the baby monitor. Saved by the baby. Thank you, sweet girl, for pulling me from my thoughts before I got myself carried away. Too late.
“Why don’t you go get Gabby, and I’ll start breakfast, and then we can start packing before you head into work today. Less stress for moving day.”
I nod before leaving the kitchen. Why do I feel like that conversation went way differently from how I imagined? Here’s hoping this doesn’t backfire on me.