Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Mia did the exact same thing.
She came back a few minutes later, a hot cup of espresso on a saucer. “Anything else? What about a biscotti?”
“No sweets.” I didn’t allow that stuff in the house. “Do we even have biscotti?”
She tried to suppress her grin. “I guess I have a bit of a sweet tooth…”
Since she looked so cute as she said those words, I let it slide. “Well, you enjoy those. I’ll pass.”
“You never eat sweets?” she asked. “Maybe once in a while?”
“On my birthday.” My mom usually made me a cake along with dinner.
Both of her eyebrows rose to the top of her face. “You eat sweets once a year?”
“Sweetheart, I can’t look like this if I eat sweets more than once a year.” I patted my hard stomach, my eight-pack visible right underneath the shirt. I ate mostly proteins and some carbs, making my body run efficiently, like one of my expensive cars.
“But is it worth it?” She placed her hand over her stomach, where she had a small hint of a belly. “The second I moved in here, I started to gain some weight. You think I care? Nope. Life is short—eat the damn cake.”
“It’s different for women. You look sexy no matter what size you are. An overweight man isn’t attractive.”
“Not true,” she argued. “I would still think you’re sexy with a belly.”
I laughed because there was no way in hell I would ever allow myself to have a fat stomach. “We’ll never find out.”
She walked back into the kitchen so I could get back to my laptop. I sipped my coffee while I heard her work in the kitchen, doing the dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. That was where she spent most of her time throughout the day, other than when she did laundry.
The doorbell rang.
Only family members had access to the gate code, so I assumed it was someone welcome in the house.
“I’ll get it,” Mia called from the kitchen.
I was in my sweatpants without a shirt, but since this person had dropped by without announcement, I didn’t rush to pull something on. They were disturbing my day, so I didn’t care.
Mia’s voice came from the other side of the house. “Hello, Mrs. Barsetti. How are you?”
My mom was here?
Their voices grew louder as they approached the dining room.
I stood up to greet my mother, wishing I had something to put on now that I knew it was her.
My mom walked through the archway. She wore a slight smile on her face, but her eyes were heavy like something was on her mind. She didn’t make a comment about my bare chest and hugged me. “Hey, Carter. Are you busy right now?”
“Not at all.” I hugged her back before I shut my laptop. “Everything alright?”
“I came by because I need to talk to you about something.” She was a foot shorter than me and lean like my father. Her dark brown hair was still lustrous and beautiful, and her brown eyes sparkled naturally.
My mother came all the way to my house to speak to me in private—that wasn’t good. Since Mia had just stayed with them for a few days, I could only assume that was what this discussion would be about. “Sweetheart…I mean Mia. Could you grab me a shirt, please?”
“Of course, Carter.” Mia walked away.
“You don’t need to do that, son.” Mom sat in the chair across from me. “This is your home, and I dropped by unannounced. Don’t worry about it.” She pulled her hair over one shoulder and hardly made eye contact with me.
Was she ashamed of me? Did Mia tell her everything? Would she betray me like that?
Mia returned with the t-shirt. “Can I get you something, Mrs. Barsetti? Iced tea?”
“That would be great,” Mom answered.
I pulled the black t-shirt over my head, hiding my nakedness from view. She said it was perfectly fine, but it felt disrespectful to me.
Mia returned with the iced tea along with a plate of cookies. “Let me know if you need anything.” She excused herself from the room and walked back into the kitchen, visibly uncomfortable by the tension in the room. It seemed like she knew exactly what my mother wanted to discuss.
So my mother probably knew everything. Now she was going to slap me until I saw stars. I wasn’t afraid of the pain, just the disappointment. I was an almost thirty-year-old man who had disappointed my mother. I should have grown out of that phase by now. Now I sat there in silence and waited for her to shake her head and purse her lips.
Mom watched me, her chin propped on her palm.
Like a guilty party put on trial, I exercised my right not to speak. I didn’t want to incriminate myself even more.
“Carter, this isn’t easy for me to talk about. Your father was going to join us, but I thought it would be better if it was just the two of us. I’m sorry to drop this on you at this moment, but it’s been weighing me down since Mia stayed with us.”