She chuckled. “Way too many questions. I’m fine. We’re here. That’s what matters.”
Molly got out of the passenger seat. Her hair was black, though it looked like it had been dyed that color. She wore a lot of bracelets and had an older pair of headphones around her neck.
“Are you Zander’s boyfriend? You’re a whole lot older than he is,” she said. Thanks, kid, because I needed to hear that.
“Molly!” Zander and his mom both said.
“It’s fine,” I replied.
“We’re just friends,” Zander told her. I really hated hearing that, but it helped when he added, “And his age doesn’t matter. I like him the way he is.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I just made an observation.”
“It’s fine,” I said again. “You’re not wrong.”
“Molly, apologize to Mr.…”
“McCoy,” I provided. “But please, call me Harrison, both of you. Mr. McCoy makes me feel…well, old, which I clearly am, but I like to pretend otherwise.” How did I not know her name?
“I’m not the one who should apologize,” Molly said sharply, and yeah, she was mad at her mother for something, that was clear.
“Bug!” Zander snapped.
“Ugh. Whatever.” Molly looked at me. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
Ms. Wescott looked uncomfortable but tried to hide it. “Don’t call yourself old. That would mean I’m old.”
Zander winced. I managed to hide mine…I thought.
I walked over to his mom and held out my hand. “Harrison McCoy, though I guess you know that.”
“Ashley Timmons. Zander’s father and I never married.” We shook hands.
“Nice to meet you. Shall we get you guys inside?”
She tried to take a step and winced.
“Let me get your cane. Did you bring the wheelchair?” Zander asked.
“I don’t need the chair. I’m fine,” Ashley replied. I had a feeling she wanted to be more fine than she was.
“I’ll help get your things.” I opened the back seat and handed Zander the cane there.
“Thank you,” he replied with a small, sweet smile, one that maybe said he was slightly embarrassed too. Not of his mom or her disability, but of the situation.
“Of course.” I grabbed their two bags while Zander helped Ashley into the house. Molly hung back with me.
“I wasn’t trying to be a jerk,” she said softly. I didn’t think she wanted her mom to know she was apologizing to me, making me wonder again if something was going on with them. Maybe Molly hadn’t wanted to come to Atlanta.
“I didn’t take offense. I’m forty-one. That probably sounds ancient to you, but I’ll tell you a secret.” I lowered my voice. “I joke around about being old, but I don’t feel it.”
“Is that why you and Zander hang out? Does that make you feel younger too?”
Christ, this kid was totally busting my balls without meaning to. “No, I spend time with him because I like him. His friendship means a lot to me.”
“It must to Zander too if we’re here.”
I hope so, kid.
The four of us went in. “I’ll take these to your room,” I told Ashley.
“Oh, you don’t have to. I can—”
“I’ll do it,” Zander cut his mom off. “You sit down and rest.”
“I’ve been sitting. I need to stand.”
“Well, stand and rest.” Zander took the bags from me. “Come on, Bug. I’ll show you the room you’re staying in.”
The two of them began walking, and I heard her ask, “Where do you sleep? Do you live here with him?” But I didn’t hear Zander’s response.
“Can I get you a drink or anything?”
She watched me strangely for a moment, her forehead wrinkled in concentration as if she was trying to figure me out. I let her silent questions hang between us—about me and Zander, who I was to him—and didn’t shy away. I might not be able to tell her I was in love with her son, but I wouldn’t hide myself from her either. We were all adults here, and I refused not to act like one.
“Yes, please. Just some water.”
“No problem. Make yourself at home.” The kitchen was within view of the living room because of the open concept of the house. She did end up sitting in one of the chairs as I got a glass of ice water. When Zander and Molly returned, no doubt after a talking-to from her brother, who looked at her sternly, I said, “Your brother told me you love orange juice. I got a whole container just for you.”
“Just for me?”
“Yep. I made Zander keep his hands off it.”
“Totally not what happened,” Zander replied. “He’s trying to get me into trouble.”
“Okay, maybe I am.” I winked at Molly, who smiled. I handed the water to Zander—“This is for your mom”—then got OJ for his sister.
It was awkward. I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. We sat around the living room, Zander alternating between fidgeting and doting on his mom, who clearly didn’t want to be babied and wanted to ask me a million questions about my life instead.
An hour or so later, Molly said, “I’m hungry. And I wanna see the school where you work.”
“I bought groceries,” Zander said. “Harrison and I stocked the kitchen with stuff you guys like.” I’d tagged along. He’d refused to let me help buy anything. “Do you think you’ll be okay to get in the car again?” Zander asked his mom.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m here. I want to soak it all in.”
“I’ll buy you guys lunch, and then we can head over,” I said.
“Harrison…” Zander began. Shit. I knew he didn’t want to feel like a burden.
But Ashley put her hand on his knee. “Sweetie, your friend is trying to be nice, and that’s okay.” She looked at me. “Actually, I’d like to buy you lunch.”
I didn’t want her to have to do that, but I didn’t want to insult her either. Her expression made it clear this was important to her, so I said, “Okay. Maybe I’ll get a meal for us before you leave.”
“Deal.”
I didn’t know what it was about that answer, but it made me feel like maybe, just maybe, this would all somehow be okay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Zander
Harrison had two vehicles, one of them a Cadillac SUV. We took the Cadillac, thinking it might be more comfortable for Mom. After arguing for a few minutes, I got her to ride in the front with Harrison, again, for comfort.
It was ridiculous really, what we were doing. I had no doubt in my mind that my mom knew Harrison and I were sleeping together, and Molly thought we were boyfriends. How could they not? The friends thing only went so far. Ross and I had known each other for longer, I’d told Mom he was my best friend, yet it wasn’t him going out to lunch with us.
But at least keeping it this way would limit the questions, would hopefully not lead them to think this thing between us was serious. My mom had to know I had sex, but I didn’t want her to think that Harrison and I were more. Then, when this ended, when he was over sleeping with me, it would become a thing I’d have to explain to them. They’d seen my dad leave enough that I didn’t want them to think Harrison would stick around, then be hurt if that didn’t happen.