Page 35 of Do It With Me

“A bit panicked?”

She grimaced. “A phone call still would’ve been fine.”

I nodded, glancing back into the kitchen and watching Mom lift her spoon, milk dripping down her chin as she smiled at nothing in particular. Yeah. She’s okay now, but for how long?

That was the part that frightened me most. I couldn’t shake the feeling that my real life—this messy, fragile, complicated life—was always going to be waiting to bring me crashing back down to earth.

Until finally, one day, it wasn’t waiting anymore. And that thought? That was so, so much worse.

Bree watched Mom when I went to change. Then she headed out and I joined Mom in the kitchen after saying goodbye. Mom was focused on her cereal again now, the spoon clinking rhythmically against the bowl.

I glanced at her fruit salad, noticing that she’d finished most of that as well. A good sign, at least. “What’s the verdict on the bananas? Are they ripe enough this time?”

She looked up, blinking like she’d only just realized I was there. Then she grinned. “Barely. You used to be better at picking them, but they’re not bad. We’ll just have to give them another day or so before they’ll be perfect.”

I laughed. “Well, I used to have more time to spend in the produce aisle. I’ll take almost perfect any day, under the circumstances.”

“When it’s a banana you’re talking about, almost perfect really is perfect, but you always were picky.” She pointed her spoon at me. “Remember when you wouldn’t eat anything green for a whole year?”

“Please,” I groaned, smiling despite myself. “You’re the one who kept trying to pass off peas as candy.”

“They were sweet peas,” she said, completely serious. “It has the word sweet right there in the name. That counts.”

When she laughed, the sound was so bright and unexpected that it smacked right into the middle of my chest and burrowed a nice little hole there for itself to live in. We drifted into quiet for a bit, vaguely listening but also not really as some daytime talk show hosts on TV debated about miracle skincare routines.

Eventually, Mom looked at me again. “We should go to the beach.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “We should go sometime.”

She nodded. “We should. Before the end of the summer.”

My heart cracked a little bit at the realization that she was slipping away again. It’s January, Mommy.

“Sure.” I swallowed my tears and managed to give her a reassuring smile, even though it felt like I was seven seconds away from a complete breakdown. “We’ll go soon. I promise.”

She gave me that sweet, vacant smile again, like she half-believed it and half didn’t. “You always say that, but summer doesn’t last forever, darling.”

Neither will the winter. Just a few more months. Just a few more, Mommy.

We stayed in the kitchen for a while, talking about nothing. Things like whether seagulls could live in the city and what we’d do if we ever won the lottery. Normal things. Ordinary things. I clung to every second of the conversation though, because this was becoming rare, being able to talk to her about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

Mom’s good days were getting fewer, slipping through my fingers like water. Any stretch of lucidity felt like borrowed time, but the emotional whiplash hurt.

Just hours ago, I’d been tangled up in luxurious white sheets with Holden and feeling alive. Now I was here, sitting across from my mom and wondering if she’d even remember what the beach was by the time it was warm enough to take her again.

From the glowing morning to the harsh reality of noon.

What made it even harsher was that I was falling for him. For Holden. I’d been trying not to acknowledge it, but after last night, there was no more point trying to deny it to myself. I knew it, but my life was too messy for a billionaire.

Holden belonged to a world of marble floors, chandeliers, and champagne fountains. I belonged here, with a mother who sometimes forgot my name and a store that was barely keeping its lights on.

He’d liked me in that dress, all smiles, sexy dancing, and no responsibilities, but that wasn’t me. The real me was tired, stretched too thin, and terrified of losing everything.

I picked up Mom’s empty bowl and rinsed it in the sink. She was humming to herself under her breath, soft and content. Meanwhile, I was feeling more and more like a complete mess. A failure.

Between saving the store, taking that class, and taking care of her, I barely had time to breathe. Holden deserved better, which was a tragic realization. Deep down, I knew I’d never meet another man like him.

But I didn’t have the luxury of letting myself believe in happy endings. Not right now. No matter what, all that mattered was finding a way of keeping my head above water. If that meant no Holden, then so be it.

He probably wouldn’t even want me if he knew who I really was anyway.