We hadn’t spoken in years, and it was entirely my fault. Even if I had made the connection, there was no guarantee that she still lived here.
Yet here I was, wiping her goddamn flour from my car, pretending like I didn’t know she was watching me.
I walked around the car to where I knew I was out of sight from what I guessed was her bedroom window. Unless she had water bombs stashed around the house, something I assumed would be dangerous, having met her grandmother.
I took my time cleaning the front of my car. It didn’t need cleaning compared to the rest of it—it was the back that looked bad—but I needed to shake the feeling of her eyes on me.
I wasn’t the one responsible for the spider. I was still pulling my boxers out of a fucking box, for the love of God. When did I have the opportunity to buy a rubber spider?
And no, it wasn’t while I was taking a shit, because I read the sports news then.
As a Dallas fan, the news usually matched the activity.
I shook my head as I moved back into what I thought was Immy’s line of sight and glanced up. The curtains were fully closed again, and I turned my attention back to my car.
No, I wasn’t the one who’d put that spider in the mailbox. If I had to hedge a guess, I’d blame her grandmother. It was the kind of thing the eccentric woman seemed like she’d be responsible for. She’d already admitted to reading Immy’s journal, so she’d know all about our prank wars in college.
It was different then. We were young. We didn’t have responsibilities past our grades and doing our own laundry.
It didn’t matter how many times I insisted I wasn’t responsible. I knew Immy wouldn’t believe me. She was as stubborn as humans came, and she’d laid down her own declaration of war with the damn mess I was cleaning right now.
“Ah shit,” I muttered, catching sight of the all-too-familiar red BMW creeping down the street. The heart-warming sight of Maya’s grinning face pressed against the back window made my stomach sink.
I’d forgotten I had her for longer this weekend.
Francesca pulled up behind my car. She frowned, staring at the mess both it and I were in, then got out. “What on Earth happened here?”
I sighed, shutting off the washer for a moment. “It’s a long story.”
“You forgot you have Maya all week, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t forget,” I lied. “I got my days mixed up.”
She pursed her dark red lips, but there was laughter in her eyes. “Don’t sweat it, Mason. It’s not like Matt remembered either.”
“See, this is where being the ex helps. He’s the one who gets to handle your temper now.”
The laughter disappeared from her eyes. “I’ve got some left for you.”
I laughed and stepped back, holding up my hands. “I’m good.”
“Dadda!” Maya almost tumbled out of the car, but she righted herself before she went down. She threw herself at me, and I swept her up into a huge hug.
“Hey, princess! I missed you.”
“I miss you, too,” she replied, squeezing my neck so tightly I thought I wouldn’t be able to breathe. “You gonna stay here for a few days?”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh. Matt says he’s takin’ Mama on vabration!”
“Vacation,” Fran corrected gently. “It’s only a few days. I’ll be back in five sleeps, okay?”
I put Maya down so she could hug her.
“Don’t sweat it, Mama. We fined here.” Maya gave her a tight hug all the same.
I had to bit the inside of my cheek so I didn’t laugh at her. It was no mystery where she’d picked up the phrase ‘don’t sweat it.’
Maya released her and reached inside the car for something. She hauled out her little fluffy unicorn backpack and her beloved Sassy ragdoll that was her fifth limb, then turned and marched off toward the house.
“That’s about right,” Fran muttered, standing up. “She’s got an actual case in the trunk.”
“I got it,” I said.
“If you think you’re coming near my newly-valeted car looking like you’ve bathed in a bowl of flour, you can think again.” Laughing, she popped the trunk and pulled out a suitcase. “She insisted on bringing half of her bedroom.”
“Naturally.” I took the rolling case from her without touching the car. “What’s the time difference?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know when I get there. We have WiFi, so I’ll call her every day before bed.”
“Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried. She’s with you.”
“Doesn’t mean you want to leave her.”
Fran grimaced, pushing her hair behind her ear. “No, but I do think this time away will be good for me and Matt. Wedding planning is stressful, and his mother is a demon about the seating chart.”
“Oh, the one you haven’t even started yet?”
“That’s the one.” She snorted, then sighed. “Come on. Why are you and your car covered in flour? I’m sure there’s a good story behind it.”
“Fine. But only because you pulled the future mother-in-law demon card on me.”
She grinned and leaned against her car. “Good to know.”
“You remember when we started dating, and I told you about the girl I kind of dated in college?”
“Sure. Imogen. You were pretty much still in love with her when we first met.”
“I wasn’t in love with her.”
“Whatever you say. Carry on.”
“Well, guess who my new neighbor is.”
Her jaw dropped. “No.”
“Yep. All the houses in this town and I bought the one next to hers.”
“And she did this?” She motioned to me and the car, her lips twitching as if she were fighting a laugh.
“A rubber spider ended up in her mailbox, and she blamed it on me, so she both water and flour-bombed me, and we’re apparently now in an out-and-out war.”
“Did you put the spider there? That is your M.O., Mason.”
“I didn’t put the damn spider there.”
Fran rolled her eyes and pushed off the car. “If you say so. I hate to drop her and run, but I have to finish packing, otherwise Matt will end up packing his ski suit for the Maldives.”
I snorted. “Like you did that time we went to Florida?”
“It was January, and you told me we were skiing.”
“I said surfing.”
“Whatever.” She punched me in the arm. “Oh, here.” She dipped into her back pocket and pulled out a key. “Spare key for our place. Just in case Maya decides she absolutely must have something I made her leave behind.”
I took the key with a grateful smile. “That sounds about right. Don’t worry; we’ll be fine. I’m working from home anyway this week.”
“Turn on Shimmer and Shine and she’ll be fine. Stupid little show with genies. The theme song is as irritating as that stupid baby shark thing. Don’t you dare sing it!”
I grinned, pocketing the key. “Thanks. We’ll be fine. No doubt she’ll make me Facebook you photos of absolutely everything.”