Page 6 of With the Key in the Office

“In,” I said. “But yes. I’m seeing someone.” The words edged out of me before I could second-guess them. There it was. Out loud. A door opened that didn’t need a magic key.

Emily squealed. “What? Who? Mom!”

I covered the receiver and mouthed, I’m sorry to Robbie, who grinned like he’d just been handed popcorn at the good part of a movie.

“He’s nice,” I said. “He’s kind. He used to have a very official job, one of those jobs where you wear a uniform and know how to fix things under pressure. He’s retired now. Which means he can, you know, help me carry laundry.”

“I am dying,” Emily said, delighted. “What’s his name? Is he your age? Is he tall? Does he like cats? Scratch that, if he’s with you in your room, he has to like cats. Is he weird about tea? Does he believe in breakfast for dinner?”

“Robbie,” I said, smiling at him as if the name tasted good. “Yes. Yes. Yes. No.” I looked at Robbie. “Do you like to eat breakfast for dinner?

He nodded eagerly.

“Yes.”

“Mom,” Emily said, drawing out the vowels as her voice softened. “You sound happy.”

I breathed for a second. “I am. Not every second. But right now, yes.”

“Good,” she said. “About time you had more than cats in your bed.”

“Don’t be crass,” I said, scandalized and laughing.

She laughed too, then yawned. “We’re up late. My friends dragged me out and then abandoned me for tacos, but it’s fine, I found better tacos.”

“North Carolina tacos are a crime,” I said.

“You are such a snob.” Another yawn. “I’m glad you’re not alone, Mom. You need people. Hobbies. A man, maybe.”

“You’re very wise for a child,” I said.

“I’m twenty-two,” she said, with a sniff.

“Still a child,” I said. “Are you headed home now?”

“Almost. I’m good, I promise. Oh, um.” A new note crept into her voice, tentative but excited. “I might be seeing someone too.”

My heart did a funny little leap. “Oh?” I sat up straighter. Robbie did too, like we were a choreographed duet of nosiness.

“It’s new,” Emily said. “Very new. And I don’t want to jinx it by saying too much. But he’s funny. And he listens. He’s sweet with his sister. And he doesn’t mind that I’m a little intense about my program. Which is new for me.”

“Good,” I said, slow and sincere. “I like all of that.”

“You’ll meet him when I’m ready,” she said.

“I’ll bring cookies and questions,” I said.

“Oh no,” she groaned. “Not the cookies. I will literally die if you bring baked goods to a first meet.”

“I’m your mother,” I said. “Weaponized carbs are my love language.”

She snorted. “Okay, Gremlin. I’m going to bed. Text me a photo of him tomorrow so I can judge his eyebrows.”

I glanced at Robbie’s very respectable eyebrows. “I will not be doing that,” I said primly.

“Love you,” she sing-songed.

“Love you more,” I said, and hung up before the game could continue.