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In spite of all the trouble mounting around me, I laughed too. Shoulders shaking, I sat at the foot of the couch.

Kyle made himself comfortable and put his feet on my lap. "That's more like it, Lowell. Just give in to it."

I shook my head. "I don't even know what to say anymore."

"Then don't say anything. Just relax, for once."

I smiled weakly. I was going to put "relax for once" on my ever-growing list of things that were never going to happen.

* * *

In an unfortunate turn of events, Kyle's father called him that afternoon at the same time my mother called me. We looked at our respective phones and exchanged wary looks. Kyle retreated to the bedroom; I headed for the far end of the living room.

"Hey, Mom," I said through the crackling line. "Can you call me from a different phone? I can barely hear you."

"What about now?" she asked, and suddenly her voice was perfectly clear. "I moved into the sanctuary. I'm forbidden from being on the phone in here, but you're my only child, so whatever."

I could just picture her stalking around the temple in capri yoga pants and a gauzy organic tank, her face smooth and unnaturally plump with filler. Her hair, frosted only with the most expensive chlorine-free bleach, was probably hanging past her shoulders in age-inappropriate waves.

"I can hear you now." I swallowed and realized I had a lump in my throat. I was hiding so many things from her, and that wasn't like me. "How are you, Mom?"

"I'm great, darling. I tried to tell you last time we talked, but then we got cut off. This has been the best trip ever. It's not even a trip—it's a journey. I'm so mentally clear right now, you could probably see right through my head." She chuckled. "How are you? I've been worrying about you non-stop."

"I'm... fine." I tried to sound like I meant it.

"Did you wrap Renegade Hearts yet? Did you get everything straightened out with Lucas? Did you tighten up your derriere, darling?"

I groaned. I couldn't say anything about my ass, lest she offer to fly home immediately or sic her personal chef on me. "We're not finished filming yet. We're on break right now. They had some… things they needed to work out."

r /> The issue is still my ass, Mom. And yes, it's still too big for Lucas's taste.

No, I haven't lost a pound.

Even though I've been going to the gym. Every. Single. Friggin. Day.

"I'm actually in Boston right now for a long weekend."

"Huh? What was that, sweetie? I thought you said you were in Boston," she said.

"I am."

"Are you on a vacation?" She sounded thoroughly confused. I hadn't taken a vacation… ever.

"We're sort of on vacation," I mumbled. Then I groaned, realizing my mistake.

"I'm sorry," my mother shrieked, probably breaking every rule ever made about the sanctuary she was in, "but did you just say we? As in you and an actual someone else?"

I swallowed, hard, over that lump. "I'm, um… here with someone." Please dear God, don't let her have had an Internet connection on her spiritual expedition.

"Is it a man?" she asked.

"Um… yep?" I let my answer trail up in a question. Because I was afraid.

"Lowell, darling, I need details. Now. Who is it? What does he do? Is it serious?" Is he rich? Does he have any single friends you can set me up with? Those questions were coming. It was only a matter of time.

I took a deep breath. "His name is Kyle... Jordan. He's in consulting. He likes to surf… he's nice. You'd like him." You'd hate him. Actually, you do hate him. "But you probably won't meet him. I'm pretty sure it's not gonna work out."

"He's nice?" she screeched, ignoring every other important detail. "You never say guys are nice!"

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