and turned her attention back to the busy road. “Yeah. He already told me we could crash. He has a spare bedroom and a Murphy bed in his office. He’s working on a project overseas right now and doesn’t know when he’ll be back, so he doesn’t mind us being there. I told him I’d keep his plants alive and keep an eye on his sexy neighbor he’s been crushing on for months. He keeps telling me the guy must be a spy or something. Apparently, he’s always dressed in a black suit and comes and goes at all hours of the night. I’m going to try and bump into him and put in a good word for my boy.” She laughed a little. “Just call me Cupid.”
I rested my head against the window and watched the traffic in front of us. “Did you tell your parents you were coming home for the summer? I bet your mom is thrilled.”
Remy and her mom, Cora, were cut from the exact same cloth. They were both tiny little powerhouses. And since they both had such big personalities, they often clashed like two turbulent weather fronts. Remy was a woman who wouldn’t be pinned down or ordered about by anyone. Her mom was someone who wanted to protect her kids against every bad thing and the world was going to throw at them. It was a situation bound to cause friction between the two. Remy left home as soon as she could and hadn’t gone back for any real length of time in years. I knew her parents wanted nothing more than for her to settle in one spot and find someone to be happy with, but Remy had no plans to do either. The longest she stayed in any one place was six months, and I don’t think she’d had a relationship last much longer. It was almost like she knew if she stood still for longer than a moment, she would have to face all the feelings she was constantly running from.
“I told Zowen, so I’m sure he told them. I wasn’t up to the twenty questions my mom would have for me if I told her I was coming home. She’d want to know why. She’d get on my case about how long I’m staying. She’d grill me over what I’ve been doing for money and how I’ve been spending all my time lately. She treats me like I’m twelve. I need to be in the right frame of mind to deal with her.” Her mouth turned into a tight line as she talked about her parents. “I’ve missed her as much as she misses me, but sometimes her concern feels suffocating.”
“It’s hard for parents when we start making our own choices, and they can’t stop us. I always thought your mom was cool and so chill. It’s always weird to hear you talk about her being overbearing with you.” I had a feeling there was more to the story as to why there was so much tension there than Remy had shared with me. She could be downright cagey when she wanted to be. Plus, how one viewed their own parents was often different than someone from outside the immediate family. There was a whole host of things that colored how we viewed those who raised us and guided us into adulthood. “That’s not how I see your mom at all. And for real, what have you been doing for money lately?”
Remy had a fine arts degree and worked as a graphic designer for a bit before deciding she wanted to travel and get out of Denver. Since then, every time I talked to her, she was doing some random job for a living. She was a dog walker. A nanny. A social media manager. A personal shopper. A bartender. A food critic, and last time I’d asked, she was upcycling old furniture from thrift stores and selling it online for a nice profit. She was in San Diego when I called and asked her to come to Denver with me, but she hadn’t mentioned what kind of job she would be leaving if she went with me.
“I was building websites freelance. I have a friend who started a small design business and asked me to come work for her. I can do most of what needs to be done remotely, so I’m actually still working for her for now. It’s the first job I’ve had that has anything