Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Hang on.
How did Mom get up the elevator? She didn’t have a fob.
I sprinted down the hall.
Hugger wasn’t in the living room, so I dashed to the dining room just in time to see him opening the door.
Mom was there, with Gram (explaining the fob, since Gram had one, and a key), probably because Mom made Gram get up early to come pick her up and bring her to my place.
I knew then she didn’t change her flight plans, she just enlisted Gram to play chauffeur and tour guide.
Both of them were staring up at Hugger in shock, but it was only Mom who spoke.
“Who’re you?”
“Your worst nightmare,” Hugger replied.
Eek!
Mom’s face froze.
Gram’s head ticked in surprise.
“Do not do shit to piss me off,” Hugger warned them, then walked away from the door so it started closing and Mom had to throw out a hand to catch it before it slammed in her face.
Hugger stalked to me and right beyond me.
Woodenly, I turned so I could watch as he kept going down the hall and disappeared in the bedroom.
“Diana! Who is that man?” Mom demanded.
I turned to see her and Gram both standing inside the door.
Mom was blonde (fake, she’d had my color hair, but I suspected she was silver or gray now). We had the same body type and height, but she was a good thirty pounds lighter than me, if not more. She was wearing slim-fit brown trousers, a white blouse with a pretty brown leaf design on it and billowy bell sleeves. She was holding a suede jacket, even if the temperatures had cooled, but it was still ninety-eight degrees during the day. And on her feet were suede, high, block-heeled sandals with a wide crisscross at the front.
Gram’s hair was all silver, so it was glorious. We got our frames from her, but she was probably thirty pounds heavier than me, and as far as I was concerned, she worked it. And she was wearing cropped jeans and a man-style button-down, French tucked (go Gram!) in a soft peach.
“Diana!” Mom called sharply. “I asked you a question.”
“That’s Harlan, my boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend, doll?” Gram asked, her confusion clearing and her eyes lighting with happiness.
“Yes, you have a boyfriend that you didn’t tell your mother about?” Mom demanded, her eyes flat with rebuke.
“Listen, you woke us up and—”
“So is that what was really happening?” Mom cut me off to ask. “And it wasn’t some girl who was harmed. You have a man in your life and you drop everything, including your mother, so you can give him all your attention?”
Could heads explode?
I needed to know so I could warn Hugger to get out the mop.
“Maggie,” Gram whispered, now a startled expression was falling over her face as she gazed at Mom.
“How could you make up a story like that?” Mom snapped at me.
But Hugger was there, he had his phone in his hand and murder in his expression.
“You’re gonna go downstairs and have a coffee and wait until Di calls to say you can come back up,” he commanded my mother and grandmother.
“Of course,” Gram agreed.
“I think not,” Mom retorted.
“This isn’t gonna happen until Di and I have a second to shake the sleep off,” Hugger returned.
“I’m sorry, I don’t even know you, so I’m not going to take orders from you,” Mom shot back.
“Maggie,” Gram whispered again, but it was sharper, more alarmed. “It’s obvious we woke them up. I told you it was too early to surprise Diana on a Saturday. Let’s give them some time.”
Mom slung an arm in our direction and said to Gram, “They’re awake now.”
Gram’s head jerked yet again in surprise.
“Mom, really, just half an hour. Okay?” I requested.
“I think it’s my due to know what’s going on with my daughter!” Mom’s voice was rising.
Hugger made a scary noise that had to come from deep in his chest.
But I demanded, “Are you joking?”
Mom pointed straight-armed at Hugger. “A man I do not know opened my daughter’s door.”
“Get your ass to the coffee joint,” Hugger growled.
“No!” Mom bit. “Maybe you can absent yourself while I have a chat with my daughter.”
“Not gonna fuckin’ happen, lady,” Hugger returned.
Mom’s torso swung back in affront. “You speak to me with that language?”
Hugger opened his mouth…
But I was done.
“This is my home where I pay the mortgage, so it’s me who says what happens here, and what does not happen is you getting into my man’s shit.”
“Diana,” Mom breathed in injured astonishment.
“You wanna do this now, we will,” I clipped.
“Baby,” Hugger murmured.
“But I suggest you go have a coffee so I can cool off,” I finished.
“Let’s go get a latte, hon,” Gram urged.
“Cool off from what?” Mom ignored Gram and asked me.
Had she not been here the last five minutes?
And had she not listened to my voicemail or actually read my texts?