24. Twenty-Four
TWENTY-FOUR
My life was perfect. Rarely could I actually say that and mean it. I meant it now, though. And, sure, I understood that imbuing Huxley with superhuman powers for delivering that happiness was a mistake. I still did it, even if I never mentioned it to him.
Nobody needed him to develop an overblown ego or anything. Not that I thought he would. He seemed pretty down-to-earth.
“Eat.” I shoved my doughnut in his mouth as we cavorted on the sidewalk in front of my apartment.
We were officially seven weeks into our relationship, and I’d never been happier — or more comfortable, for that matter — with anybody in my life.
It felt as if destiny had smacked us upside the heads as children, and we were just now getting the message.
Huxley made a face and pulled his mouth away from the doughnut. “Cake doughnuts are not my thing,” he complained, looking at my chocolate-covered breakfast — there were sprinkles, too — with disgust.
“No, you like the much more respectable bear claw,” I agreed. “Even if they have maple frosting inside.” Now it was my turn to make a face.
He laughed at my forlorn expression. “You love maple syrup,” he reminded me. “You drown your pancakes and French toast in it to the point where I’m worried about your teeth because of the sugar.”
“That’s different. A doughnut already has perfect flavoring. You don’t need to mess with it.”
“Ah, but I prefer pastries, not doughnuts.”
It was an interesting distinction, and I had to think about it. “Fine.” I pulled the doughnut back. “Don’t pretend that I never offered you the best thing that will ever be in your mouth, though.”
His expression turned devilish at the unintended double entendre, and I gave him a serious, scolding finger shake. “Do not take it to a weird place,” I warned.
It was too late. He caught my finger and pulled me flush against his chest. I took a bite of doughnut to stave him off, but it didn’t matter. His mouth covered mine before I could swallow, and he gave me a long, soul-sucking kiss.
“That was gross,” I sputtered when I finally pulled back.
“That will teach you to taunt me with doughnuts,” he replied.
“Just so gross.” I wiped my mouth and beamed at him. Yes, I really was the happiest I’d ever been.
Then a shadow appeared in front of us. As an author, I knew what that shadow meant to our stories. Shadows always meant darkness. Nothing terrible could pop our bubble, though. I was reading too much into it, per usual. I was the harbinger of my own doom far too often. Well, not this time.
Slowly, I allowed my gaze to track up until it landed on my mother’s face. I jolted so hard I dropped my doughnut. “Mom,” was all that escaped.
Huxley went rigid next to me, his face draining of color. “Aggie,” he said. Then his eyes moved to the person with my mother. “Mick.”
I wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die. “What are you doing here?” The question came out strangled.
“We were just about to ask you that.” Mom looked me up and down, then focused on Huxley. She took special note of his arm around my waist and then looked back at me. “Well, this is …” She didn’t finish it out. She didn’t have to.
Mick, thankfully, took control of the conversation. “I always thought there was a spark between the two of you. I figured it was far too late to take advantage of it. I guess not, though.”
“Um …” Never before had I been this tongue-tied. I had no idea what to say to my mother, however. Denying what she’d seen with her own eyes was a non-starter. Plus, well, I wanted her to know. I didn’t want to hide my relationship with Huxley, even if it was only from one person.
Mick put his hand on my shoulder to still me.
When I found the courage to look into his eyes, he seemed caught between amusement and pity.
He didn’t speak to me when he opened his mouth, however.
“How are you doing, Huxley?” he asked. “I’ve read some stories about you, and the writing seems to be going well. ”
“It’s going good,” Huxley agreed. He rolled his neck. We hadn’t been expecting this, so even though he was better under pressure than me, he wasn’t prepared for what this conversation would look like. “How are you?”
“Good,” Mick replied. He seemed to be searching for the right thing to say. “You know, I never got a chance to say goodbye to you back then because … well, you know why.”
Huxley’s eyes darted toward Mom, but there wasn’t hate reflected there, just sadness. “Yes, I know why.”
Mom looked pained but didn’t say anything.
“I’ve always wanted to have a conversation with you,” Mick continued. “Maybe, during this visit, you can carve out some time for us to have coffee, just the two of us.”
Huxley’s eyes went wide, and I thought for certain that he was going to lose it. Instead, he took me by surprise — I think Mick was surprised, too — when he nodded. “I would like that. There are some things I want to talk to you about as well.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Mick managed a half-smile. “As for this, well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” He waved between us. “I mean, I am, but I’m not, too. Does that make sense?”
Huxley let loose a hollow laugh. “I guess.” He turned his attention to Mom. “I know this is weird to you and that there’s a long conversation in our future, but it really is nice to see you.”
Mom didn’t bark at Huxley or give him a hard time. I didn’t expect her to. It wasn’t Huxley’s fault that his mother had lost her mind and attacked Mom in front of thousands of people.
“Huxley, it’s good to see you.” Mom leaned in and hugged him. It was surprisingly fierce. “One of the greatest regrets of my life has always been that we never got a chance to say goodbye to one another. You were like a son to me back then.”
I made a face. “Oh, don’t phrase it like that,” I complained.
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.”
“Okay.” Huxley stretched out the one word, looking uncertain. “We can do that.” He glanced over at me, as if asking permission.
“I think it’s probably a good idea,” I encouraged. “Mom and I need to talk.”
“With each other, and with Lucy,” Mom added. “You and Mick should talk. We’ll all have dinner together, though.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “We will?”