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I smirk, looking up at her. “The whole tough-mom act isn’t going to work right now. Sorry.”
“Just talk to me. I can tell you’re hurting.”
“I’m not hurting,” I grit out.
“Did something happen at the party? Did your father say something?”
I guzzle down some more beer instead of answering. She snatches the bottle from my hands, standing in front of me.
“You can’t drink away your feelings so you might as well tell me,” she says sternly.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I mumble, feeling my head swim. “I fucking lost her. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to let her go in the first place.”
My mother’s expression softens. “This is about a girl? You were dating someone?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“But you have feelings for her,” my mother pushes.
I clench my jaw and that’s answer enough.
She arches an eyebrow, her expression turning fierce. “I don’t understand why you’re moping about here. If you like her then fight for her.”
That makes me laugh. “It’s not that simple, Mom. There’s someone else.”
“Why should that matter?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is that what you told yourself when you were with Father?”
Her eyes narrow. “This has nothing to do with my situation with your father. I’m trying to tell you that if you really care, which you obviously do, then there’s no reason to give up. You’re my son; I know you better than anyone. If you genuinely want something, you work for it without quitting.”
I stare at her, impressed. “That was almost inspiring.”
She laughs. “She must be pretty special if you’re acting like this. How long have you known her for?”
“Five days,” I reply.
Her smile drops immediately. “You’re joking.”
“Trust me, Mom, I’m not,” I assure her. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you the full story.”
I get to my feet and sway a little.
“You’re drunk, Graham,” Mom cautions, moving to grab my arm. “Come on, I’ll tuck you into bed.”
“I’m thirty years old. I don’t need to be tucked in bed.”
“Yes, but you’re definitely not making it up those stairs on your own. Come on.”
Despite my protests, she leads me to my room. I kick off my shoes and unbutton the first few buttons of my shirt before falling onto my bed.
Fuck, I’m exhausted.
“Good night, sweetheart. I love you,” Mom whispers, placing the covers over my body.
“Night, Mom,” I say sleepily, my eyes falling closed.
This was our first good interaction in I can’t remember how long. I’m sure she’s happy. And despite the fact that I was only so forthcoming with her because of the state of my emotions, I’m glad we had that talk.
