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"Earlier I wasn't worried about you getting serious about her." He huffed next to me.
"I'm not getting serious about her." I looked straight ahead.
"So…if I tell you that I don't think you need her anymore, will you be willing to cut her loose?" Eric asked.
"Right now?" I asked. Panic filled my chest.
"Yep. Right now."
"I think that's premature," I said, still not looking at him.
"Uh-huh. I thought so, buddy."
"Shut up, Eric."
"I can't breathe, anyway. I'm gonna have to."
"That's the best news I've heard all day," I said.
* * *
One of the perks of being an NFL quarterback with lots of endorsement deals was that you could afford movers. And decorators. And you could pay them to do things extra-fast.
We were in my new house almost as soon as the ink was dry on the contract.
I was examining my wine refrigerator when there was a knock on the door. I looked at my watch; it was six p.m. I cautiously approached the security camera and peered at it. We weren't expecting anyone.
There, on the front step, the person I feared the most.
My mother. Looking indignant.
"Oh God," I groaned.
Avery looked at me worriedly. "Who is it?" She got pale. "Is it my sister?"
"No. It's worse." My shoulders slumped. "It's my mother. And she's upset with me because I haven't introduced you to her yet. Or invited her to see the new house."
Avery raised her eyebrows. "Oh boy." She was quiet for a second, biting her lip. "She doesn't…know about me, does she?"
"Hell no," I said. "Not that my mother would judge you—she's not like that."
I looked at the door, panic-stricken. I wasn't going to tell her anything, but I couldn't underestimate my mother's ability to find shit out. "I have to let her in now. It'll be fine. Trust me."
Avery nodded nervously as I swung the door open.
"Ma!" I said, taking my mom in my arms and giving her a hug. "You should've called! I would've sent a car."
"I figured I had to surprise you, or you'd say you were too busy for me." Martha pulled back from me and adjusted her lavender-rimmed, owl-like glasses. Her blond hair was pulled back in a demure headband, and she was wearing a yellow button-down sweater. If you didn't know her, she would look like your average, Volvo-driving, preppy, middle-aged woman. The truth was, she was a ruthlessly plainspoken, proud, tiger cat of a mom. I started to internally sweat. I hope she liked Avery. She'd hated Jessica, and it had been a disaster from the beginning.
I didn't have time to wonder why I was so concerned about my mother approving of my fake girlfriend.
"I'm assuming this is your girlfriend?" she asked, gesturing to Avery. She looked her up and down. "The one you've been keeping from me?"
Avery smiled at her cautiously. She shook my mother's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Layne."
Martha smiled back at her. "Finally," she said, making her way into the house.
"This is lovely." She clucked her tongue as she looked around the entryway and headed into the kitchen. "Very nice. Too bad I had to come down and ambush you in order to see it. I've been feeling more than a little left out lately, honey."
