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“Ellie!”
My mom is calling me from the kitchen as if I’m still a teenager. Annoyed but curious, I get up from my bedroom floor where I had sprawled out and gotten comfortable with Angus. I walk into the kitchen and see my mom standing in front of the stove, quite literally cooking up a storm.
“So, I wanted to talk to you about meeting Mark.” Her voice is cautious as her gaze is focused on the stove in front of her.
Mark?
“He’s the man I told you about last month? The one I’ve been seeing?”
I nod. I had pushed the thought of my mom’s new boyfriend (such a weird thing to say) and forgotten about meeting him. I guess I’ve been avoiding it altogether. Once I meet him, I won’t be able to deny that he’s real.
“We were talking about it and how does a quick dinner this weekend sound? Saturday? After you get off work?”
When I hesitate, she drops the wooden spoon that’s in her hand and turns to face me.
“Ellie,” she says. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I was hoping you could keep an open mind about it.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I sigh, my shoulders sagging in surrender. I force a small smile. “Saturday sounds good.”
“Thank you,” she says. “I really appreciate you meeting him, Ellie.”
I smile deeper, the guilt of my reluctance actually convincing me to keep an open mind.
“So, this Rhylan Matthews guy,” she starts, her voice carrying the implied tones of curiosity. Her hand reaches for more cooking utensils, her focus back on the stove.
I groan. “Mom, please. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“I saw you two kiss in front of the house.”
I look at her, surprised. Of course, she did. It wasn’t as if we had kissed in some secret hideaway spot. It was right in front of our house.
“And I saw the way he looks at you,” she adds.
“Are you spying on me?” I ask, trying to change the subject. I roll my eyes when she doesn’t look away before bringing my hands into the air in surrender. “I don’t know what it is, Mom.” I sigh. Not labeling what we have may be the best thing for us. It might be what makes it work, for now.
“Well, the next time he comes by, maybe he can come to the door? Like an actual gentleman?”
“Sure, Mom.”
“And maybe I can meet him?” she slyly suggests.
I deadpan, giving her a sideways glance.
She chuckles. “Anyways, don’t get too comfortable. Dinner’s going to be ready in a bit,” she calls to me as I walk towards my room. I wave my hand in her direction to let her know that I heard her.
I smile at the mention of Rhylan’s name. We hadn’t been able to really make any concrete plans this week with my busy school schedule and some meetings he had with Levi and his publicist, but we’ve been on our phones nonstop. Last night, I sat on my bed with my phone propped up against a textbook as we FaceTimed for three hours while I attempted to study. He listened to my story about an eighty-year-old man that came into the bookstore looking for a copy ofLittle Womenso he could read it to his wife who had recently been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, her memory constantly wavering in and out. He listened intently while I became teary-eyed, thinking about this man who didn’t know if his wife would remember him each day, preparing for the worst but always staying by her side. While I did that, Rhylan filled me in on his days crammed with endless meetings, sifting through piles of scripts, and workouts at the gym. And then we stayed silent, enjoying each other’s company in the only way that we could right now.
Through my small phone screen, I watched as whatever qualms he held in his chest dissipated. He smiled, laughed, and joked. All as if he had never asked me to be patient with him, to hold on to this idea of us. I watched more layers of him peel back as we situated into a new place in each other’s lives. For those fleeting moments, I imagined a future for us, musing over what it would be like to call him my boyfriend and for him to introduce me as his girlfriend.
I slump back onto the floor in my room and lay my head down on a pillow, resting my feet upwards on the edge of my bed. My phone is held between my hands, and I scroll through the past messages between Rhylan and myself before my thumbs tap along the screen to punch out a new message.
Me:My mom thinks you’re not a gentleman.
I smile, knowing he’s going to have something to say. He responds almost instantly.
Rhylan:Apologies to milady. It was not my intention to have dishonored you. Please inform me how I may repent for my horrific actions.
I roll onto my stomach, laughing while staring at the screen. I respond back with a laughing emoji.
