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“Exactly.”

The following silence was more comforting than awkward. Soft breaths filtered through the phone. Was she still wearing her flannel pajamas? Or twirling her hair around her fingers?

“Do you like teaching?” Charlie’s voice teetered on drowsy.

“Teaching’s my favorite part of the conference. The meet and greet stuff, the book signing event, slowly kills my soul. I’ll be okay, though. My agent’s coming into town, so I have my wingwoman to help me out of uncomfortable conversations.” Mack’s chest tightened. “I’d rather be spending the time with you.”

The room got hot, fast.

Charlie was quiet. Too quiet.

Now her throat was all tacky and gross, and she fanned her shirt.

“Thanks again for tonight,” Charlie said after a painful amount of moments passed. “See you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

FOURTEEN

MACK’S DRINK SPECIAL: MANUAL LABOR MACCHIATO WITH SORE MUSCLE SYRUP

Mack slept late for the first time in forever, not wanting to wake up from some gloriously sexy dreams. Her hands circled and explored what she wished Charlie would have the night before. After her shower, the writing resumed. She needed to get some words in, but every time her fingertips touched the keys, Charlie’s lips haunted her.

“Knock, knock.” Her mom’s voice accompanied her knuckles against the door. She poked her head in, wearing a black business suit.

“Whoa, who died?”

“You’re such a poop.” Her mom grinned as she flipped open the blinds. “The room’s so dark. How do you even see anything?”

“It’s only dark to you. I’m still in my twenties.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” Her mom tapped Mack’s leg to scooch over. “I’ll have you know I’m meeting with an important client today. Bidding on a contract to renovate office spaces, which would be ah-mazing.”

Mack folded herself into her mom. She breathed in the comfort of her apple-scented hair and squeezed harder than she had in years.

“What’s that for?” her mom asked while patting her back.

Mack pulled back and shrugged.

She should’ve never waited a year to visit her parents. When her mom was sick, Mack worried she’d die. So, what did Mack do? Ran like a scared toddler. Delayed visits and trips. Called her dad late at night when she knew her mom would be asleep. Maintained a delusion that somehow her avoidance would all make things easier if something terrible happened to her mom.

But now, being back, seeing how far they’d come, warmed Mack. Gone were the days of her exhausted, overworked mom sinking into the couch while her father massaged her feet and fed her boxed mac ’n’ cheese made with government milk. Replaced by her confident mom standing in her beautiful condo with Jimmy Choo shoes and a Coach bag.

Mack swatted at her mom, who tousled her hair. “Really?”

Her mom stood and leaned against the door frame, leveling a stare at Mack. “I worry about you.”

“I know.”

“You seem better than when you first arrived. Thank sweet baby Jesus.” She clapped her hands together and looked at the ceiling. “But you’re still hiding something.”

Her mom didn’t pry any deeper. But she didn’t leave, either.

How could Mack possibly deduce and articulate everything happening in her world? All these unsettling but warm feelings gave her a fierce, slightly addictive lust buzz. She used Charlie. She missed Charlie. She wanted to kiss, hug, and run away from Charlie. “Do you ever sometimes… just not know what to do?”

Her mother’s chest lifted with a sharp inhale. Unclear if her reaction was relief or surprise that Mack opened up. Her pumps clicked across the floor, and she sat down at the edge of the bed. She fiddled with her watch and looked out the window for severallong moments. “When I first got sick, I wasn’t even scared. I just kept thinking, nah, they’re wrong. I’m only thirty-nine. Cancer happens to old people. I was numb for days after getting the news. Until I wasn’t numb anymore.” She crossed her legs. “And then I was scared.Soscared. I hid it from your dad, hid it from you. But you were scared, too. It wasn’t like I didn’t realize you stopped visiting.”

Flames flew up Mack’s cheeks. “Mom, I’m so sorry?—”