“How are you feeling?”
She shrugs one shoulder but doesn’t meet my eyes.
Not great,that shrug says.
Don’t ask.
“You take your meds?”
“Yes,” she says.
Then, with a smirk: “Did you take yours?”
I laugh and lean down to kiss the top of her head. “I don’t have meds.”
“You should. You worry too much.”
“I do not.”
“You do. You get it from me.” She pats my knee, then squints at my face. “Long day at the gym?”
“Yeah, I was there all day. Pretty normal.”
Her eyes narrow, suspicious. “Uh-huh. Anyone interesting come in?”
My stomach tightens.
This woman has known me since I was a screaming newborn, and she reads me better than anyone alive.
I keep my tone casual. “Not really.”
She makes a noise likebullshit.
I grab a water bottle from the coffee table, twist the cap, take a long drink. “Just trained a few clients. Nothing unusual.”
“Mmhmm.” She raises an eyebrow. “Is the ‘nothing unusual’ client pretty?”
Jesus.
I run a hand down my face. “Ma.”
“What?” she says, fighting a smile. “You get this look. It’s a very specific look. It’s your ‘I met someone and now I’m pretending I didn’t’ look.”
“I don’t have that look.”
“You absolutely have that look. Don’t lie to your mother.”
I sigh, staring at the blank TV reflection. And suddenly Elena’s face flashes across it. Her braid, her scrunched nose, her laugh that made something warm uncoil inside my chest.
“I was just…training,” I mumble. “Like normal.”
Mom watches me for a beat.
“Well…did she smile at you?”
I feel my ears heat. “A little.”
“Then she’s probably very nice.”
