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None of which would have happened if it hadn’t been for my drive to provide for Mom. Something I was now able to do in spectacular style and was damn proud of being able to do.
Sophia, of course, knew all of this, and her soft voice pulled me back to reality.
“You’re not the son of a gun,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re the son of a wonderful, hardworking woman who loves you more than life itself. Speaking of whom, how is Mary these days?”
That. That was why I loved the Loves. Aside from Mark and Sophia, no one ever asked about Mom. Shit, apart from Sophia, no woman ever did. Not even the ones I kept around for months and actually introduced to the main woman in my life had ever bothered asking.
Sophia, however, made a point of it. Better yet, she always listened to my answer with rapturous attention and then told me to send her love.
“She’s okay. Good, I think. She’s still staying with me at the house.” I’d bought her one, but she refused to live in it, insisting that I rent it out instead. “She claims that I’ll get into too much trouble without her there.”
Sophia laughed, whatever weirdness momentarily disappearing as she glanced at me over her shoulder, still packing away an inordinate amount of dishes to have only been used to make one meal.
“Smart woman.”
“That she is,” I agreed. Besides, her health was fading fast. It was better that she was with me, where I could take care of her. Too many years of stress about where our next meal was coming from and working almost around the clock was finally catching up to her.
“How’s her arthritis?” Sophia asked.
I swore that she could read my mind sometimes. “It’s not great. It’s been acting up again recently.”
The corners of Sophia’s mouth turned down. “I’m sorry to hear that. I read the other day that there’s a new drug on the market that’s showing some promise.”
“I’ve heard about it, too, but it’s still experimental.”
Sophia turned away from me again, after a moment of silence stretched between us, and she shifted awkwardly. Whatever was eating at her, I didn’t fucking like it. It was clearly hurting my friend.
“Seriously, what’s up with you today?”
“Nothing,” she replied, shoving detergent into the dishwasher and finally shutting its door. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“Uh-uh. I’ve seen you walking around like a zombie during exams, and you’ve never been like this.”
She spun around to face me, eyes flashing with some unnamed emotion. “I said I was fine. Stop pushing me.”
“I’m not pushing. I just want to know what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing,” she grumbled, adding below her breath. “That you need to know about.”
“I need to know about everything. Information is my life. I would be nothing without it.”
Sophia crossed her arms and lifted her gaze to mine. “Well this information would mean exactly that to you. Nothing.”
Interesting.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re being weird with me, yet the reason why wouldn’t mean anything to me? That makes no sense, Soph.”
“Does to me,” she muttered darkly, busying herself with soaking items in the sink that hadn’t fit in the dishwasher.
“So, help a poor guy out here. Last night, I’m fucking hot, and today, I’m what? Not? So ‘not’ that you can’t even look at me?”
Sophia sighed. “That has nothing to do with this. All I need is a day in bed. Just let it go, will you?”
“No. What do you need a day in bed for, Soph? Experimenting for some column you’re writing?” It was meant to be a tease, but Sophia’s cheeks heated.
What the what?
“Maybe,” she said. Turning those bright blue eyes on me, I felt their heat in my dick. “What’s it to you?”
