Clare groaned. They were not having that conversation. “I need to concentrate on the road.”
“Right. That would be a first.” An indignant snort rang from her kid as the light at the intersection changed to red.
“Shit.”
“Nice try. You don’t need to concentrate on the road when we’re sitting still, do you, Mom? Spill. Tell meeverythingabout the hunky silver fox makin’ eyes at you over tampons at the store.”
Silver fox? They weren’t that old, were they? Dear Jesus in the manger, please tell her they weren’t at silver fox age quite yet.
“He’s just someone I used to know.” Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel as her glare bored into the red light hanging in front of her.
“How?” Catriona tore open a box of Whoppers and dropped a couple into her mouth.
“School.” The traitorous light was still red, and a sidelong glance at Cat told her the conversation was far from over.
“Which one?” Another Whopper down the hatch. Cat seemed to have inherited her father’s metabolism. She could eat cosmic crap tons of whatever the hell she wanted and she didn’t gain an ounce. Bitch. “High school?”
Clare shook her head. Still red.
“College?”
Another head shake. If a kangaroo could hop across the intersection to change the topic of conversation from Elliott fucking Swift that would be great. Perhaps answering the question and giving her something, anything to mull over, would shut up the inquisition.
“Kindergarten.” There. She’d given her something to chew on. It wasn’t exactly a salacious detail, but it was something.
Cat coughed, choking on a piece of candy, and thumped her chest a few times. “You’ve known him since you were little and you still acted like…” She waved her hand as though that was enough of an explanation of her behavior. She wasn’t wrong.
Mercifully, the light changed to green, Clare let her foot off the brake, and a silence descended over the car. “Yeah.”
After a few minutes Cat leaned forward and turned the radio on. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s his name?”
“Elliott.”
“I gave him your number.”
Chapter 2
Clare
Clare’s heart thrashed in her chest the whole way home as she fought the tug of her mind into memories of a long distant—but never forgotten—past. Catriona had given Elliott her number, so what?
If he really wanted it, he could have asked his parents for it. They were still friends with her parents and she’d seen them a handful of times throughout the years. Maybe he even still had it in his own cell phone. It wasn’t like she’d changed it in the decades they’d known each other. Her stomach flipped. What if he’d deleted it? Ugh. The idea made her feel even more pathetic.
Had she kept her cell number in the hopes that he’d come back from becoming a hot-shot-hockey-player and want to talk to her all those years ago? Perhaps.
She’d need to come up with something particularly grueling to punish Cat for overstepping her bounds. She might have had one foot out the door toward college life, but as long as she stayed under Clare’s—albeit falling down in places—roof, she was at Clare’s mercy.
Maybe she’d make her clean the toilets with a toothbrush. Or babysit for her little brother for a few nights without pay. Or—
“Mom?” Mason’s voice startled her from her revenge plotting.
“Yeah, honey?”
“Are you okay?”
