Page 82 of One Night with Number Nineteen

I hit send on the emails, tossing the sheaf of papers to the side, then set about finding a date to deliver my items for Bri’s fundraiser.

Eyes heavy, I turn to my mom’s seemingly endless list of tasks and reach out to a couple of doctors to schedule follow-up appointments, her financial advisor to make sure she’s staying on track, and contact a handyman to service her garage door that’s been running loudly.

After sending her a text letting her know all of that, and that I safely reached the hotel, I put my phone on do not disturb, my laptop aside, and go to sleep.

Unfortunately, I don’t stay that way.

The first call I don’t hear because my phone’s on DND.

The second gets through, though, and I groggily pull it from the charger, swipe across the screen and put it to my ear. “’Lo?”

“I need Lainey’s number,” my mom says. “Immediately.”

Sleep is the only thing that’s happening immediately—or a loss of it, anyway.

“What are you talking about?”

“She and I need to go to lunch,” my mom says. “I need to get to know her, and that adorable little Ollie, better.”

I sit up, horror slicing through my insides.

“That’s not going to happen, Mom,” I snap out before I realize what I’m saying.

Silence greets me, reminding me that was the absolutely wrong thing to say.

A sniff. “I’m sorry.”

I close my eyes, head pounding. “Look,” I say, “I’m exhausted and only got”—I glance at the clock—“three hours of sleep. Lainey and I are new, Mom. We’re figuring things out and going slow because of Ollie. It’s a little too soon for lunch, okay?”

“O-of course. I don’t kn-know what I was thinking.” She sniffs again. “I’ll mind my own business.”

“Mom,” I begin, rubbing at my throbbing temple. “I’m not saying⁠—”

“You’re tired and I got ahead of myself.” Her tone is meek. “I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“Mom—”

“Bye, honey.”

Click.

Groaning, I rub my hands over my face.

And though I try to go back to sleep, I don’t fucking succeed.

I just lie there with my eyes closed for long, long minutes.

Then I lie there with my gaze glued to the ceiling even longer, thinking about all the ways I fucked up and all the ways this can go so totally more fucked.

My mom and Lainey going to lunch together.

My mom having her fucking number.

My mom calling her over and over again.

My mom⁠—

Groaning, I scrub my hands over my face and give up on sleep.