me how things have been since you moved.”
I put some water on and the first thing that sprang to mind wasn’t that I’d been writing or that Ginny was in town. It was Gavin.
I tried to push him out of my mind and focus.
“Things have been good. I’m pretty well settled here. There’s plenty of room and Dad just kind of does his own thing while I do mine.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Do you have a place to work?” Her voice was hesitant, and I knew what she was really asking—are you writing again?
I got two mugs out of the cupboard. “Yeah, I have a desk upstairs and there’s a cute coffee shop in town. As for the question you didn’t ask, yes, I’ve actually done some writing.”
“Have you? That’s great.”
I decided not to mention the Gavin effect. Why was I able to write when he was around? It didn’t make sense, but I needed time to unravel that one.
“Yeah, more than I have in a long time. I’m kind of afraid to jinx it, honestly.”
“I think you were right about the change of scenery. How’s Gavin?”
The tea bag packet flew out of my hand mid-rip. How did she know? “What?”
“Gavin Bailey. He’s the one who stepped out in front of your car and broke his leg, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes.” I grabbed the tea bag and took a breath to calm the fluttering in my stomach. “He’s okay. I’m sure it’s no fun to have a broken leg, but he’ll be fine.”
“Have you had the chance to talk to him since it happened?”
“Yeah, I have.” I poured the hot water, debating whether to tell my mom I’d been hanging out with him. I didn’t know why. Normally I told my mom everything. Well, not everything. Things like sex fantasies were outside the realm of our usual conversation.
Now I was just being silly. I could tell my mom I’d become friends with Gavin without mentioning that the mere sight of him ignited a flurry of arousing daydreams.
I brought our tea to the table. “Actually, I’ve hung out with Gavin a few times. He can’t work until his leg heals, so he has time on his hands. He showed me around town. And then… well, he kind of came over today.”
Mom raised her eyebrows as she pursed her lips around her mug. “Did he, now?”
“Mom. Stop.”
She put her mug down and her lips twitched in a subtle smile. “I just think it’s interesting that you made a friend so quickly. That’s unusual for you.”
“Gavin is… persistent. And I mean it when I say we’re friends. Don’t go getting any ideas.”
“The look on your face is giving me ideas.”
“What look?”
She smiled again. “The look that tells me I need to have a chat with your father about what kind of man Gavin Bailey turned out to be.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop pressing you about it. I’m just relieved.”
“About what?”
“The fact that the mention of another man is making you blush like that leads me to believe you’re not wallowing in distress about your breakup with the dipshit.”
I pressed my hands to my cheeks. “Am I blushing?”
“A little.”
“We really are just friends. I’m not wallowing because of Cullen, but I don’t think I’m ready to jump into anything either.”
“Nothing wrong with that. So have you heard from the dipshit at all?”
I laughed softly. “No. Apparently he’s too busy wrecking someone else’s marriage.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, but I’m so glad you didn’t marry him.”
“So am I.” I blew on my tea and took a sip. “Is it weird that I don’t want him back, but it still hurts?”
“No. Anyone would be hurt by what he did to you. I can’t even imagine what he was thinking. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, creative, wonderful woman. He’ll never do better than you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Any luck finding a new agent?”
“No, but I haven’t really tried. I will, but I think it would be better if I had a book ready to go before I start querying again.”
Mom opened her mouth to reply, but the front door opened and we both turned to look.
Dad came in, dressed in his TFD shirt and dark pants, and paused in the entrance to the kitchen.
Oh boy.
“Caroline.”
She smiled at him over the rim of her mug. “Norman.”
I held my breath while they eyed each other for a long moment. Sometimes my parents were civil to each other. Other times, not so much. They were so different—opposites, really—it was hard to