since I’ve heard that sound. “I just asked if you’ve heard anything from Liam since he visited?”
“No, nothing.”
She frowns, shaking her head. “Weird.”
My little brother's frequent absences and lack of communication is a sore point for us both, but I know it hits her harder. “He’ll probably visit again soon. He often has business here, after all.”
“Yes, you’re probably right.” She raises a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “I thought I’d see Bella today again. The neighbor girl?”
A billion different responses race through my head. “She’s moved away,” I say finally.
“Well, not out of the city?”
“No.” I can sense her frowning at me, but I keep my gaze locked on my kids playing in the treehouse.
“They had a fight,” Maria offers, without looking up from her book. “They’re not talking.”
Oh, Lord. “No, we—”
“A fight?” my mother asks. “Ethan, what could possibly have been big enough to justify a falling out? Fix it.”
“That’s not—”
“He hasn’t been happy since,” Maria supplies, ratting me out to my mother. I shoot her a warning glare, but she ignores me soundly, flipping the page of her book. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Ethan, explain yourself,” my mother demands.
I look up at the sky and take a deep breath—save me from the meddling of women.
“She turned out to be more like Lyra than I’d expected,” I say, wincing internally at the memory of the quiet tears running down her cheeks last time we met. Lyra never did that, except in fits of dramatics.
Maria scoffs.
Mom just raises her eyebrows. “Ethan, you can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious.”
“That girl didn’t have a single manipulative bone in her body. What’s worse, she seemed like the kind of person who could be manipulated!”
I grit my teeth. “Trust me when I say that she does.”
“I won’t, not until I hear the full story.” Her voice is the same one I’m using—the one that brooks no argument. Carter stubbornness in action, and it’s a face-off. “What happened?”
Maria puts down her book and heads down to where the kids are. Effortlessly giving us privacy.
I clear my throat. “She lied about who she was. She said she was the neighbor’s niece when she was actually hired to house-sit for the summer and take care of the cat.”
“Ah,” my mother says, and a whole world is contained in that word.
“Just say what you’re going to say.”
“Well, I’ll say that she was probably intimidated. I know you don’t always think so, sweetie, but you’re sometimes rather impressive. Has she apologized for it?”
“Yes.” Profusely, actually. And explained it. And on some level, perhaps I could understand it—that lie, anyway.
“And?” Mom asks. “That’s it? That’s the whole reason you’re not talking?”
I shake my head, my teeth grinding together. No one, I’ve told no one, and it’s… well. It’s too much to keep to myself.
“Well, she’s pregnant.”
My mother is silent. The times I manage to strike her speechless are rare, but I don’t take any pleasure from this particular moment.
Her eyes are wide. “You’re having another child?”
“Unplanned, but yes.”
Her eyes grow hazy with tears, the widest smile spreading over her face. I can’t help it—I smile too.
“Oh my God,” she says, “another grandchild. A baby! And how was that not the first thing you told me today, Ethan? You let me babble on about Liam and my book club and groceries!”
I laugh, reaching over to hug her. “Mom, it’s still early days, and it’s complicated.”
“This part is very simple, though. You’re having another kid. Are you happy?”
I haven’t really thought about it in those terms. Happy. But when I don’t let my thoughts speak and just listen to what’s inside me… “Yes,” I say. “Really happy, actually.”
Mom wipes at her eyes. “Why on Earth isn’t Bella here? Move her in with you! What are you waiting for?”
Ah.
“She said she was on birth control,” I say. “Clearly, she lied.”
My mom grows still. “Did she tell you that?”
“She denies that she planned it, of course. Says she took some herbal medication at the same time that interfered, something called St. John’s Wort.” I shake my head, turning away from the look in my mom’s eyes. “But I won’t be dragged into the same arrangement as with Lyra. The kid, I’m happy about. Not Bella.”
Thwap. My mom hits me on the back of the head, and not gently, either. “Ouch. What was that for?”
“For being an idiot,” Mom says. “You’re telling me that the girl I met—who was clearly keen to make a good impression on me, and on you, I