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“I’m sensing something, sweetie. Are you unwell? Are you pregnant?”
Just managing to swallow my coffee, I smothered laughter. “No, of course I’m not. I’m still on the pill.”
“Then what is it?”
“I dropped in yesterday and found you with Mitch.”
“Mitchell? Yesterday?” Her face pinched as she bit her lip. “Oh… were we?”
I nodded slowly.
She grimaced. “Oh. Do you hate me?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, of course I don’t hate you. But hell, Mom, it’s kind of icky. He’s only twenty-eight.”
“So?” She spread her hands. “Justin, the boy I met at the Shaman retreat, was only twenty-two. He was such an old soul and so much more mature than men my age. Age is just an arbitrary construct, sweetie.”
I headed over to the cheval mirror and studied my hair. The dark roots of my waist-length blond hair needed touching up. My blue eyes had a sparkle about them. My mother was right—a night with Chase beat yoga, green booster juices, and a good night’s sleep combined.
“It might be a construct, but what happens when you’re much older? After you’ve given your heart and soul to the guy and people start confusing you for his mother?”
She grabbed a brush from her handbag under the counter and stood behind me to brush my hair. A comforting habit of hers.
“Time does strange things. We can’t predict who will be there in the end. All we can do is be strong in ourselves. Stay healthy. And make sure our bank accounts are nice and full so that we can be independent.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I thought about Chase. Would he be around in ten years? Would he be around next month? The guy, by his own admission, found it hard to stand still, let alone settle down. And I wasn’t ready to settle down either. I had to somehow become that strong, independent woman my mother described.
That didn’t mean I wished to emulate her life. There was no way I would embrace that exhausting open-door policy where men were concerned. Tinder had taught me that.
“But Mitch?” I asked, stepping away from her.
“We just clicked. You must have seen that? He spent so much time at our place.”
“Are you telling me you hooked up while I dated him?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No way. I’d never do that. But, darling, I noticed his lingering stares. I thought you might have too.”
I thought about my three months with Mitch. I’d met him three months after Chase and I split up.
I’d warmed to Mitch’s Ryan Reynolds looks, and we’d hooked up.
“I guess you both liked cooking vegan meals together,” I said. “You shared that in common. And I was too weak to notice much during my Mitch phase because I was borderline anemic.”
My mother had never eaten meat while pregnant, and when I was growing up, my dad would sneak me off to McDonalds or make me bacon and eggs. That always made me feel stronger. Since taking control of my diet, I’d become an unapologetic carnivore.
“We were seriously incompatible,” I admitted. “I should have bolted after he refused to kiss me because I’d eaten chicken.” I laughed at how ridiculous Mitch could be.
“Well, darling, a vegan is sensitive to animal products, especially during intimacy.”
I was relieved Chase was a carnivore—and a me-ivore. He liked devouring every square inch of me. My heart picked up pace when I thought of us eating a juicy steak then fucking like tigers.
Tantric Tom, as Liam had called Mitch, was all soft in that slow, touchy-feely way. Feathery touches were nice for starters, but I preferred the hungry rip-and-grope approach. And Chase always came across as ravenous and impatient for the first course, followed by the slow-burn approach, which left me squealing all kinds of obscenities. He was the greatest lover I’d ever had.
“I can see you’re both compatible,” I said. “You both go for overly processed soy products and cleansed Druidism.”
“Cleansed Druidism?” She shook her head.
“Druids were into blood sacrifice, and I’m sure they didn’t pass up on the chance of chomping on the juicy loins of an animal by opting for tofu instead.”
