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“Oh yes. Want to know what was in it?”
“No. Yes! No. What am I saying? Of course I want to.”
“Exactly what you’d expect,” I drawl. “In no way was I shocked by the lube or the vibrators. I mean, my mother had me at twenty-five. Come on. You should expect to find your own parents…”
“La la la, I can’t hear you. The world does not need to know if Beckett Miller and Paige Kensington ever had a toy box.”
“And there was something else.” Just thinking about it causes my lips to curve and my heart to clench simultaneously—a sensation I’m getting used to with every minute that extends between my mother’s passing.
“What’s that?”
“A letter addressed to me.”
Austyn’s choking for air. “Your mother left you letters in her toy box?”
Oh, the look on her face is going to be priceless. “Actually, your mother left me a letter from my mother in her toy box.”
Austyn’s face turns as purple as her braids. “Shut. The. Front. Door.”
“I can’t lie.”
“Have you read it?”
“Not yet, but it’s your mothers handwriting on the envelop.”
“Do you want to read it now?” That’s my best friend—my ride or die. I know for a fact she’s on her way to jump on a plane to head back to New York, but if I need her, she’ll stop right where she is—literally—to listen to me read my mother’s words aloud.
I’m about to take her up on the offer when the doorbell rings. “If there’s a god, she’s at the door with my pizza.”
“Let me let you go. We’re about to board. I’ll call you from the plane.”
I begin weaving through rooms. “Thank your mama for me.”
“Only if I can do it in front of my dad. He’ll get a kick out of where she hid the letter and I’ll get a kick knowing they’re going to have to hide their box better.” She murmurs to her husband who barks out a laugh.
“I love you, Austyn. Thank you for being here when I needed you.”
“If there’s one thing you don’t need to thank me for, it’s that.” The second Austyn disconnects, I pocket my phone and fling open the door.
I wish I’d looked out the side pane to see who was on the other side because standing in front of me is a destroyed Ethan.
I go with my first instinct and immediately tighten the muscles in my arm so I can slam the door in his face.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Who’s hungry?
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That’s your inspired post today?
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Crap. I meant to send that as a text.
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There are days, buddy. I just can’t with you.