When we’d gotten in from the airport, I’d turned around and dragged Cal right back out to the bar, thanks to a text from Beckett.
Deciding I’d watched her like a creep for long enough, I reached out and put a hand on her thigh. That outfit was as infuriating as it was sexy. I shook her leg a little.
“Wake up, sweetheart. We’re home.”
I got out and rounded the car to her side, opening the door. Cool night air rushed in and forced her to open her eyes.
She squinted up at me.
“Let me finish my nap. I’m so comfortable.”
“It’s cold out here, and you need to get to bed,” I countered, reaching in to unbuckle her seat belt.
My sudden proximity made her eyes widen, and she woke the rest of the way up quickly.
“You just love telling me what to do, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I murmured, still bent over, my lips close to hers.
I couldn’t deny that after the miserable time in London, it felt good to be close to her again.
“Brody?” someone called to me from outside the car.
I should have gotten up. I should have at least pretended I wasn’t planning all the ways I wanted to have this woman, but honestly,pulling away was hard. I’d fucking missed her and her rolling eyes and sharp tongue.
“Brody, what are you doing?” the person said again, and this time, I recognized the voice.
Surprise hit me. I stepped away from the car and turned around.
Cal stood at her shoulder, his face unreadable as he followed the small, diminutive female figure crunching across the gravel.
“Brody, finally, you decide to come home,” she said.
I blinked down at her.
“Mum?”
Inside the house, Selena wandered around the kitchen, banging cupboards, while Cal sat in an oversized armchair opposite our mother and me, watching her carefully, as if looking for glitches in the hologram. She couldn’t really be here, could she?
“So, I was passing kind of close to the US and just thought, why not come and see my boys so close to, um—Emily’s day.”
“Right. Does Dad know you’re here?” I asked.
My father wasn’t usually fond of unannounced visits.
She rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. All the solid gold bracelets on her arm clacked as they slid downward. She had so much jewelry on, she never stopped making a faint jingling sound.
“Who knows? I spoke to Arthur to get the address, and your father was in meetings. Apparently, he’s taken his new mistress to France with him.” She tittered, a sound I recognized for nerves.
“She’s not his mistress,” Cal broke in. “They got married.”
My mother shrugged in a way that made me certain she already knew that.
“Married, divorced, engaged, who can keep up with that man.” She sniffed. “So, how’s school?”
“Fine. How long are you staying?” I asked her abruptly. I didn’t have time for this visit and all the emotional baggage it would bring up. Whenever she came to town, wherever we were living, things got messy.
“Probably just a few days. This town doesn’t have much going for it,” she said with a conspiratorial wink, expecting us to agree.
