My girl is so damn cool.
“And although quite attractive, the undergarment you chose isn’t very sensible. It barely covered your nether regions.”
This time, she blanches. And I don’t blame her.
“What kind of undergarments?” Carson asks.
“I believe your generation calls it a Z-string.”
“A what?”
“G-string, Mom.” Why did I just correct her?
She nods, realizing her mistake. “Yes, G-string. Oh, it was quite lovely on Miss Ealson, but very insensible. You don’t wear those all the time, do you?”
Almost every goddamn day, but I don’t say that.
“No.” Emory shakes her head. “Just while holding Oreos in bed . . . topless.”
Her answer shocks my mom, but before I can cover for her, everyone in the room, including the woman who raised me, busts out into a fit of laughter. It’s then I look around and notice something important: Emory fits into my entire world. And my mom just approved my girlfriend’s tits and met her match in sass . . . sounds like this girl belongs here, forever.
My teammates have retired to their respective rooms, giving Emory, my mom, and me some alone time together in the small common space near the bedrooms. We have multiple common room areas in the loft and since the big one is taken up by five of my teammates, including Carson and Holt playing baseball on the team PlayStation, we sectioned ourselves off.
I thought about bringing my mom into my room, but my bed is unmade and given the mind-blowing hand job Emory gave me an hour ago, I thought it would be weird to have my mom sitting on my bed. I can only imagine what she would say if she saw evidence of our coupling earlier.
With Emory on my lap, because I refuse to let her sit anywhere else, I keep my arm firmly wrapped around her waist and my hand resting on her hip. She leans into me, thankfully feeling a little more comfortable.
My mom crosses her legs and brings a cup of tea to her mouth. She carries teabags in her purse so wherever she goes, she can enjoy a cup of her favorite hot beverage. She even has a specific tea wallet where she holds three different types of tea at all times. An English breakfast, a green tea, and a peppermint. They are for specific times of the day or mood.
Right now, she’s drinking peppermint. I can smell the fresh and minty flavor from here.
She tilts her head to the side after taking a sip of her tea, studying us. “You know, I can’t get over how beautiful you two are together. One of those couples you love to follow on Instagram, you know, the really cute ones that are so sickening in love that you can’t get enough of them.”
Way to drop the love bomb, Mom.
Jesus.
Thankfully Emory doesn’t show any kind of hatred for the term but instead says, “Like Jennifer Lopez and A-Rod?”
“Yes,” my mom answers with excitement. “Oh my gosh, I’m obsessed with watching their stories. The little videos they do together, I just can’t get enough of them. J-Rod,” my mom says dreamily. “Oh gosh, what would your couple name be?” She thinks about it for a second. “Emox . . . or Knemory. Oh I love Knemory. Sounds so poetic.”
“Knemory does have a nice ring to it,” I add.
“I don’t know, what about Emorox?”
“Ohhh, that sounds like a name that belongs in The Game of Thrones.” Taking on a more masculine voice, my mom says, “Look out, Jon, Emorox is coming over the hill, with her fire-spitting dragons, Knemory and George.”
“George?” Emory laughs out loud, covering her mouth. “Why George?”
“Well, look at the names they have in that show? They’re all exotic names you’ve never heard before—Cersei, Gregor, Arya—and then in waltzes good old Jon Snow. It’s only fair that the dragons have a lemon in the bunch as well.”
“Uh, Jon is anything but a lemon, Mom,” I defend. “He was raised from the dead.”
My mom’s mouth drops, pure and utter shock in her face. “Jon Snow dies?”
Shit.
Emory elbows my stomach. “Where the hell is your GOT etiquette? You never talk about the facts of the show until the air is cleared about how far someone is in watching. You are one of those people who spoils everything for someone just catching up to the trend.”
*Ahem*
“I mean . . . uh . . . he doesn’t die.”
“You just said he is raised from the dead,” my mom says.
Feeling guilty, I reply, “Well, at least he’s still alive, right?”
She slumps against the cushion of the couch and mutters, “Unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Gentry, that your son is a barbarian and broke your GOT trust.”
Pressing her hand against her forehead, my mom says, “You know, I blame myself. I thought I taught him a shred of decorum, I guess not.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Emory coos. “You did everything right. It comes down to the hooligans he hangs out with. There’s only so much you can control after they leave the nest.”
“You’re absolutely right,” my mom agrees and leans across the couch to smack me in the back of the head.
“Hey,” I complain while rubbing the sore spot. I look between the two women in my life and I say, “I don’t like this ganging up on me shit.”
“You wanted us to get along, right?” Emory asks. “Well, I happen to like your mom, especially since she complimented my bosom.”
“Ah, I see.” I continue to look between the two of them. “You’re okay with my mom catching you with your shirt off now, moved past the embarrassment?”
Emory’s eyes narrow. “With that kind of attitude, it might be the very last time you see me topless.”
My mom raises her fist to the air, as if to say, “Girl Power.” And then she says, “You tell him, Emory. Don’t let him push you around.”
“I wasn’t pushing her around—”
“You keep that beautiful bosom under lock and key, and if you have a temptation to show anyone, just flash me.”
“Mom, do you realize how wrong that is?”
“Want to go to the bathroom right now, Mrs. Gentry?”
“I would be delighted to.”
They both stand but before they can make a move, I pull on Emory’s hand, bringing her back down to my lap. “No way in hell is that happening. Jesus, what is wrong with you?”
They both laugh, getting too much joy out of their newfound connection. I can’t be mad, because it isn’t very often you find a girl your mom accepts, and from the twinkle in my mom’s eye, she really likes Emory. Makes me feel fucking awesome.
Chapter Twenty-Six
EMORY
“What should I expect tomorrow?”
Curled into Knox’s chest, I rest my hand against his bare skin, drawing small circles with my finger as he calmly threads his hands through my long locks.
“Since it’s an exhibition, nothing too special when it comes to pageantry, as they save that for our first home game of the season, but you do need to prepare yourself for my mom.”
“What do you mean? I’ve spent the last two weeks getting to know her, she’s fantastic.”