“Sure, baby. I’m good. Why do you ask?”
He pointed at the still running faucet. “You’ve been washing that carrot for about four minutes now. I think it’s clean.”
Turning off the water, she smiled and dried off her hands, placing the carrot on the counter next to the rest of the vegetables. “I guess I’m just a little distracted.” She ruffled his hair.
His eyes narrowed, but he shrugged and his stomach growled. “How long till dinner?”
“About twenty minutes.”
Another nod and he took off through the house before she could follow it up, so she yelled.
“Put your laundry away before screens, Masemallow. It’s on your bed.” She slid the knife through the head of broccoli, collected the florets in cupped hands and put them into a bowl. “Mase?” She paused to wait for a reply.
“I got it. I got it. Laundry before games.”
“Distracted by Dishy Elliot?” Catriona crossed the kitchen, reached around Clare, and swiped a piece of carrot.
“Eavesdropping?”
“Always. Tell me how you met him.”
Clare sighed. Elliot was exactly what she was distracted by. Seeing him again had pulled the dusty old cover off the box of long-forgotten feels in her chest. Now that it had been uncovered, it was growing, sucking the air from her body and demanding attention. “I met him on the first day of kindergarten. I told you.”
“Okay? Is that it? You guys…just…went to school together like two strangers?”
No. “Yup.”
“Funny. I didn’t get a strangers vibe. I got scandalous history vibe. You want me to believe you just met on the first day of school and that’s the end of your story?” She narrowed her gaze and folded her arms. Audacious sass filled the kitchen, and Cat wore an incredulous look that Clare herself had perfected over the years. Though Clare’s eyebrows weren’t anywhere near as flawless as her daughters.
“Yup.” Dammit, she popped the ‘p’ too hard, made it too casual, brushed it off too quickly. Cat wasn’t going to buy it. She needed to play it cool, act natural, maybe she wouldn’t—
“Liar.”
Some days she hated how well her oldest child knew her. “If I tell you how we met will you leave me alone to finish dinner?”
Cat waved the half-eaten stick of carrot at her. “We both know I can’t promise that, Mom. But I can promise to help clean up after dinner.”
“You help clean up after dinner every evening.”
Cat bumped her hip against Clare’s. “And I do such a swell job of it, too. You’ll miss me when I’m on campus.”
Her stomach soured. Cat was right—she was going to miss having her around. Sure, she’d still be in the same city, only a phone call away and able to see her regularly enough to save Clare from losing her fucking mind, but it stung.
“Spill, Mom. It’s obviously weighing on your mind. Maybe it’ll be good to get it off your chest.”
She put down the knife and wiped her palms on the front of her shirt. Turning to face her daughter, she folded her arms. Maybe if she protected her chest, her duct-taped heart wouldn’t threaten to break all over again.
“The first time I saw Elliott Swift, I walked right up to him and kicked him.”
Catriona’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”
She laughed. “I’m not. I charged right up to him in the playground, kicked his shin, and announced he was my boyfriend.”
Cat’s eyes widened. “Mom! That’s… Wow. Aggressive much?” She waved a hand. “Continue.”
“Continue what? That’s it. That’s how we met.”
“And did this boy accept your violent and deranged relationship proposal?”
