Billionaires Dollar Series

“So,” my mother says, sinking more meaning into the single word than many authors do in an entire novel.

“So,” I echo. “Why don’t you just go ahead and say what you want to say?”

Mom’s eyebrows rise. “Honey, I don’t know enough to say anything. What I have are questions.”

Sweet mercy. “I don’t have an awful lot of answers for you.”

She scoffs, like she knows that’s not true, and wiggles a little on the barstool. “Awfully uncomfortable, these,” she comments. “Why’d you choose them?”

“I didn’t choose them.”

“Right. Lyra did.”

Can I fire a distress signal? If I thought trying to explain Bella and me to my mother was bad, discussing my ex-wife is arguably much worse.

“Where are you going with this?”

Mom makes a tentative spin on the chair, holding on to the island the entire time. “So stupid,” she says. “Right. Well, the girl next door seems really nice. She knows how to cook. Kind, too. And she looks at you like… well, she likes you.”

I close my eyes. So far, so good. “That’s nice.”

“Yes, it is. So why don’t you take her out on a proper date?”

My eyes pop open again. “You want me to date her?”

“You’ve been alone for too long. And I include the years you were married to that bitch in that.”

“Mom.” I glance back toward the living room, but the joyful sounds of Paw Patrol drown out our conversation. Haven and Evie aren’t listening.

“It’s the truth!” she protests, eyes as just as determined as mine. “Let me take the darlings on Saturday and you go sweep her off her feet. You still remember how to, I hope?”

I look up at the ceiling and count to five. It’s mildly mortifying to get advice like this from one’s own mother, but…

“I still remember,” I say. “Thank you.”

She smiles and gets up, starting to clear the plates. “Excellent. Saturday it is, then.”

I glance back at the living room and what the hell, why not-I’ll speak my fears. After all, my mother had raised two sons and done a great job.

“I worry, though… I don’t want them to get too attached. They’re just now starting to get over Lyra’s absence.”

Mom’s face darkens. “A child never gets over that.”

“I know. You know what I mean, though. They don’t ask for her that often anymore, they don’t cry for her.”

She gives a thoughtful nod, but her eyes are ripe with speculation. I know the look. It means she’s plotting something. “It seems like they already like her.”

“They do.”All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Just make sure you go slow, and I’m sure it’ll be fine. My grandchildren are strong. Besides, who said anything about marrying the girl?”

“Mom!”

Her smile is wide, and she pats me on the arm as she walks past me to the living room. “You’ve lived for others for long enough, Ethan. Including your employees. This could be good. Stop worrying so much.”

I stare after her, watching as she sinks down into the couch and Haven comes up to nestle against her side.

My hand fists at my side, hard, before I release it and let the tension drain away. A date would make things more serious. It would invite all kinds of potential trouble. But maybe my mother had a point-there was no need to think that far ahead, and Lyra had been years ago.

It’s time to try again.

So I call Bella that night, after the kids are asleep and my mother has left, lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling.

She answers on the third signal. “Ethan?”

“Hey.”

“Is everything all right? How’s Haven?”

“She’s doing great. She’s actually starting to look forward to showing off her cast to her friends. We’ve been discussing who might be jealous.”

“Wow,” Bella says. “Looking ahead. I like it.” Then she sighs. “I’m sorry about this morning. I’m sure your mother had questions for you after I left.”

I snort. “Yes.”

“I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you.”

“You haven’t.” Quite the contrary, actually. “She liked you.”

A pause. “She did?”

“Yeah. Your pancakes received stellar reviews.”

Bella chuckles. “I hope you didn’t tell her the mix came from a box.”

“Of course not. I’m a gentleman.” I run a hand through my hair, surprised by how… just happy her voice makes me. And she hasn’t even been away for that long-what, twelve hours? “I have a question,” I say. “More like an order.”

“An order?”

“Yes. Clear your schedule on Saturday. I’m picking you up and we’re spending the day far away from Greenwood.”

“I’m being kidnapped?”

“Oh, yes. I can be charming when I try to be.”

“So you haven’t even been trying?” she asks. “Then I’m in serious trouble.”

Her words make me laugh. “Oh, you absolutely are. You haven’t forgotten our conversation from the other night, have you?”