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“And I’m waiting for you to acknowledge I want grandbabies, Lincoln Burns. You let a few more years slip by and you won’t be a spring rooster anymore.”
“It’s spring chicken, Ma,” I correct. “And maybe you should adopt.”
“That would make them babies. I said grandbabies,” she tells me with all the seriousness of a judge reading out a life sentence. “That means you need to adopt or get laid.”
I jolt back. Did she really say that?
“Ma, my sex life is none of your business,” I snap.
She laughs. “You’re turning red.”
“What? Like hell.” My hands move to my ears where I feel that telltale heat from two little traitors attached to my head.
“See? You’re thirty-two years old and you still can’t lie to me.” She laughs like she’s possessed and then stops suddenly, leveling me with a wide-eyed look. “Waitaminute. I know that look, Lincoln. You did get laid. Was it Dakota?”
She claps her hands together.
Yeah, fuck this. I’m out of here.
Turning my back, I stare at Seattle’s distant outline across the water, wishing I could teleport back there. I’m not even pretending to answer her question.
The whole point of agreeing to Anna’s insanity was also to protect Dakota’s reputation if anyone ever found out about us. She may be a firecracker, but she’s as fragile as blown glass. I won’t have anyone breaking her when she’s already cracked from that assclown who hurt her.
“It was her, wasn’t it?” Mother asks quietly.
“Why would you say that?” I turn slightly, looking over my shoulder.
“Because. If it wasn’t, you would have just denied it until you were blue in your face. You’re miffed but you’re not even putting up a fight—”
“Ma. You’re being ridiculous.”
If there was ever an evil smile, she’s wearing it now. I try not to wince.
“Well, now. This might just be easier than I thought!” Her unfriendly smile blossoms into a grin like she’s already visualizing Dakota with a basketball-sized stomach.
Please. Someone put me out of my misery.
“I could’ve lived my whole life without hearing that, you know. Save the fireworks, Ma. You’re not getting grandkids next year. It’s just not in the cards,” I tell her firmly, scratching the back of my neck.
I feel like there’s a spider trying to burrow under my skin.
“Whatever you say, dear. Brunch?”
“I already ate this morning.”
She frowns. “We’ll call it tea if that makes you feel better. But come sit and talk to me.”
“We’ve been talking, Ma. Hasn’t been helpful.”
The stare she hits me with says I don’t get a choice.
“Look, what you’re overlooking is the fact that these cutesy books and movies about fake relationships blossoming into something real are just stories. This is real life. We’re both professionals and while I can’t speak for Dakota, dating isn’t on the agenda. She’s been burned before and I... You already know.”
Mom stops midstep with a sad look. “Who hurt that poor girl, Lincoln? And yes, we know who hurt you.”
“Can we not go there again? We’ve only been through it a thousand times.” I shake my head bitterly. “My point is, don’t get too attached and overprotective with Nevermore—Dakota, I mean. It’s all a farce.”
“I’m not. I’m just curious.” She picks up her pace, scuttling around the kitchen while I linger at the breakfast bar.
“It’s not my story to tell, Ma. You know I won’t violate an employee’s privacy like that and I’m damned sure not dating her.” I ball my fists on the counter and stretch my arms. “You should be happy your rules are still ironclad.”
“Oh, rules, fools.” Again, she hits me with those puppy dog eyes. “You’re a good man, Lincoln. Sometimes too good for your own well-being and mine.”
A few minutes later, we gather at the table. I help carry a snack tray into the dining room while Mom pours piping hot tea.
We’re dancing around the greatest betrayal of my life—my clusterfuck of an engagement—and I hate that even years after the carnage, it still has the power to suffocate this room like a goddamned mammoth.
For years, the same song and dance.
Mom pleading for me to let it go while I insist I already have. Then I go right back to my safe life with zero room for love, for sex, for anything.
That begs the question. If we’re both damaged goods afraid of anything serious and I’ve admitted this isn’t a romance story, what am I doing with Dakota Poe?
I just know I’m craving more of last night.
With her, I need it a million times over.
“You’re doing a fine job with the company. I’m proud of you,” Ma says, setting down half a sandwich. “But I don’t know where you got the idea that work is everything. We raised you to know better—”
“And I’m here right now with you, in the middle of the workday.”
My eyes fall on the picture hanging behind her. It was their fortieth wedding anniversary. Ma wears a blue sequin dress dancing with a light in her eyes as she stares at my father adoringly. Dad wears a perfectly fitted tux and a smile too big for life on his weathered face.
