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“Okay,” he said, leaning down to kiss me. I kissed him back before he stood up, smiling, and turned to head out the door with Bucky.
I pulled my hair out of the bun it was in and tied it up into a new ponytail. When I looked over to the door, though, I saw that Dillon’s phone had fallen out of his back pocket as he’d walked outside, so I went to go pick it up.
I knew that I shouldn’t do it. I knew that if I did call my mom, I would be breaking his trust and potentially placing us in danger.
All of that was overridden as I unlocked his phone, using the password I’d seen him use, and dialed my mom’s number in San Luis Obispo.
“Macy!” My mom’s happy cry almost made me start crying. “What’s going on, sweetie?”
“Not too much,” I said, picking at my nails. “Dillon’s out walking the dog right now.”
“How is he?”
“Good! He’s been cooking a lot of good food for me.”
“Good,” she said. “How are you, though, love? You sound a little odd. Are you ok?”
I chuckled. “How do you know when something’s off?”
“It’s a mom thing. You’ll learn about it one day. What’s going on?”
“I’ve actually caught a stomach bug,” I said, placing my hand on my belly. “It’s okay; Dillon’s not sick. I’ve just been throwing up lately.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she said. I closed my eyes and bent my neck back, leaning into the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry you’re sick and that I’m not there to take care of you. Do you have ginger ale? Is there a place around there where you can get good chicken soup?”
“No to ginger ale—I only have Gatorade that Dillon got for me this morning. But he did make chicken soup today, and it was amazing.”
“Wow,” she said, her voice swelling. “I’m jealous.”
I giggled. “Yeah. It’s delicious.”
“Well, be careful of having too much Gatorade if you’re not moving too much, okay? It can make you feel really bloated, and then you might feel more nauseous.”
“Well, I’m already bloated, so at least we’ve already checked that off the list,” I said. “My period should be starting any day now, though, so I think I’ll feel better once that comes.”
“It hasn’t come yet?”
“No. I think the stress has been holding it up, actually.”
She got quiet for a few minutes, to the point where I thought the call got cut off. “Mom?”
“I’m here.” She was quiet again before asking, “I’m just curious—have you slept with this crazy attractive man who cooks for you, yet?”
Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. So much yes. And I hope to continue doing it. “No, Mom. I haven’t slept with him.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice surprised. “Well, why not?”
“Mom, I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Fiiiiiine,” she said, sounding a lot like a teenager, and I laughed. She joined in with me, and we took another minute to chat before I told her I needed to go.
“I love you, Mama.”
“I love you too, sweetie,” she said. “Remember to ask him for ginger ale, okay?”
“Okay.” I hung up and deleted the number from off the recent calls before going and placing it on the floor where it had fallen and then going and getting into bed with my book. All the while, even though I didn’t actively think of it, there was a little voice lingering in my mind, reminding me of what my mom had asked. I shut my eyes, trying to keep the words from becoming real.
21
