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A knock at the door had me about jumping out of my skin. It was Mia. I knew it was, but I was so wrapped up into my own brain that it surprised me.
“Is that her?” Mom asked from her seat in my office, where we sat waiting for Mia to arrive.
I nodded, then moved to go answer the door.
Mia was there on the porch, looking incredible with a dark, floral tea dress and black tights, standing taller than usual in three inch pumps. She looked absolutely delicious.
“Is she here?” Mia whispered as a greeting, looking around me as if she’d see my mother hiding behind me like a troll.
I grinned and nodded. “She is. In my office.”
Mia blew out a heavy breath, then nodded, as if preparing herself to go to war.
I led her into my office and slid my fingers between hers, giving her hand a squeeze.
“Mother,” I said, though it was unnecessary because my mom was already staring at Mia with hawk eyes. “This is my girlfriend, Mia Miller.”
“You’re awfully young,” were her first words.
Mia gave a gracious smile.
“Yes, well, thanks,” she tried.
God, I could feel her hand sweating with nerves while it was curled around mine.
“You never mentioned that you were dating a child,” Mom said, sounding like the words were distasteful.
“I am not a child,” Mia bristled. “I’m twenty-three, and about to graduate with my master’s degree in English Literature.”
Mom scoffed with a roll of her eyes.
“Really, Owen?” she asked, dismissing Mia entirely.
“Do you remember that conversation we just had?” I said, sending a quick warning glare to my mother.
She waved her hand and stood, gathering her bag and made her way toward the door.
“It might be fun for now, dear, but you could do far better than a child.”
My mother breezed out the door, leaving me with apologies on the tip of my tongue.
“Well, I guess I can breathe easy now that I definitely know your mother doesn’t like me,” Mia said with a smile, but I could see tears brimming in her eyes.
“Shit… Mia,” I murmured, pulling her into my arms.
“It’s ok. I didn’t expect her to love me at first meeting. A girl can hope though, right?”
Cursing my mother in my head, I gently let go of Mia and led her to my modest sedan and found Mom waiting by the front passenger seat.
“You can sit in the back,” I said to her, knowing that she was just trying to make a power play.
When the kids were in the car, she would often sit in the back with them to discuss the ailments of the world while nobody sat in the front with me.
“Oh, no, of course not,” Mia protested. “Your mama should have the front seat. I don’t mind sitting in the back.”
Mother smirked and lifted her chin, unmoving from her spot beside the door.
“No, she’ll be just fine—”
