Page 210 of Things We Left Behind

The memory floated over me like a soft blanket. Dad and Maeve cozied up in the breakfast nook with legal pads and law books while Mom helped me with my homework at the kitchen island.

Dad had been so proud and excited that his oldest daughter wanted to follow in his steps. Teenage Maeve was fierce and determined to be the best.

“Definitely a keeper. Put it in the Maeve box.”

“So I need to ask you something that’s probably going to upset you,” Mom announced, dropping the book in the box.

“Is this what it feels like to be a parent?” I joked.

“Lucian,” she said.

I went still. “What about him?” She couldn’t know about our brief, ill-­advised fling. Could she? She would have said something. Unless she was saying something now.

Mom pushed a tall stack of alumni magazines into the recycle pile with her feet. “I know you two don’t really talk, but I was wondering if you’d heard anything about him lately. He canceled our dinner two weeks in a row and hasn’t been returning my calls since. It’s highly unlike him, and I’m worried.”

It appeared as though Lucian had dumped two out of three Walton women. “You two sure seem to spend a lot of time together,” I ventured.

“Don’t get all snooty about it. Your father and I adore Lucian. He’s been part of our lives since he snuck into your room that first time. It was our greatest disappointment that you two didn’t fall in love and make a bunch of beautiful grandbabies for us.”

My mother was joking, but given my current life goals and Lucian’s recent occupation of my vagina, it felt like a personal attack.

“You’re more likely to end up with Michael B. Jordan as a son-­in-­law than Lucian Rollins,” I said dryly.

“Cute and talented. I wouldn’t be upset having to stare at that gorgeous face every Thanksgiving,” Mom teased. “So you haven’t heard anything? I’m worried. It’s not like him to ghost me, as the young people say. He’s done a lot for your father and me, especially since we moved down here, and I miss him.”

I wanted to quiz her on all the ways the emotionally stunted stallion had supported my parents, but I heard the sadness in her tone and felt like an ass. A guilty ass. If my nonbreakup with Lucian had cost my mother her relationship with him, that meant now she was missing two men instead of receiving all the support she deserved. And I was going to let Lucian know that was unacceptable at the first possible moment.

“I’m sure he’s just busy,” I fibbed. “I bet he’ll be calling you up for lunch next week.” I would rain hellfire down on him to make sure of it.

“I hope so,” Mom said. She dumped the remaining law books on the carpet and sprayed down the bookshelf with a thick layer of lemon Pledge. “Enough about me. How’s the husband hunt going?”

“It’s…going. I had a first date with Kurt Michaels Friday night.” I did not add that I’d all but jerked off Lucian in the hallway during said date. My mother didn’t need to know she’d raised a trollop.

Mom abandoned her dusting. “And?” she prompted.

“And he’s nice. He’s smart. Cute. Obviously great with kids. He’s looking to settle down. And unlike everyone else I’ve dated, he isn’t married, lying, or running from the law.”

She raised a motherly eyebrow. “But?”

“How do you know there’s a but?” I demanded.

“Mother’s intuition. Just like I knew you were planning to sneak out to Sherry Salama’s sweet sixteen when you were grounded.”

I sighed. “On paper, he’s perfect. Hell, in person, he’s perfect. But there’s no…”

Engulfing flames of desire? All-­consuming need to tear his pants off? Off-­the-­charts chemical reaction?

“Spark?” Mom supplied.

Spark seemed too tame in comparison to what I’d experienced with Lucian.

I shrugged. “Maybe I just want too much. Maybe I can’t have it all in a partner. I mean, who gets to have a husband who changes diapers, respects your work, and performs like a romance novel hero between the sheets?”

Mom threw her arm over my shoulder. “You’d be surprised.”

“If you’re going to use this as a segue to tell me about your sex life with Dad, I will send you the bill for therapy.”

“I’ll get my checkbook.”