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“Some obsessed fan or desperate paparazzi.” His fingers shake as he stabs at the screen before raising it to his ear.

After a few rings, a loud voice sounds through the phone. “Where the fuck have you been?”

Tate paces in front of me. “I’ve just seen them. I thought you had the staff sign NDAs? Well, who else could’ve taken the photos, Howard? This has to go against the Hippocratic oath or something. No. I’m staying here. No. I don’t have to prove anything.” As a man who rarely loses his cool, his anger is palpable. “Yes, in fact, I do have more important things to deal with than this shit show. I pay you and the label’s PR team to handle situations exactly like this, so please, handle it.”

He hangs up and flings the phone onto the couch. Eyes closed, he steadies his breathing. When he looks at me, some of the tension in his shoulders loosens. He opens his mouth to speak, when another ringtone cuts him off.

“Will people please stop calling me.” Pulling my cell from the pocket of my robe, we both stare at the screen.

“Ah, shitballs.”

I wave the phone in his face. “I doubt she’s calling to speak to me.”

He grimaces. “Tell her I’m busy.”

“You’ve been avoiding her calls.” I shove the still-ringing phone in his direction. “Answer it.”

He shakes his head, retreating in fear. “I don’t wanna. You talk to her.”

“She’s your mother.” I corner him.

“Exactly. She’ll be nice to you. She’s going to cancel my birth certificate.”

“You are a chicken.” Before the call drops, I click Accept. “Annie, don’t worry. I’m with him. Yes, he’s breathing. Yes, he’s very sorry. No, I won’t take it easy on him. I’ll call you with an update after we talk. Love you.”

Behind his panic, Tate’s gaze softens. “See. She adores you.”

To most, remaining close with your estranged husband’s mother while you’re experiencing marital problems is bizarre. Most don’t have Annie Brooks as a mother-in-law. From the day she found me crying on my front porch and invited me for dinner, she changed my world. Not only did she bring Tate into my life, but she’s the maternal figure I desperately yearned for.

My mother thinks she’s a busybody and a gossip. But what does she know? The woman only reaches out to me when she needs money, never asking about my life.

Annie knows everything. Well, almost everything. She doesn’t know about the divorce papers. To her credit, she’s never tried to offer advice or begged me to give her baby another chance. Annie isn’t the type of boy mom who thinks the sun shines out of her son’s ass.

“She’s mad at me.” He stares at his bare feet.

“Yeah, you keep ignoring her calls.”

“Nah.” His sad eyes meet mine. “She didn’t speak to me for almost a month after I left town.”

I clamp my mouth shut. Annie and Tate would rarely go a few days without talking to each other. They’re close, and Tate adores his mom, so the fact she gave him the cold shoulder says a lot.

“She obviously forgave you. When I visited her—” Shit. I clamp my mouth shut, but it’s too late. Tate’s eyes widen in realization.

His brows pull together. “You’re the friend who helped take care of her after her knee surgery?”

There’s no point in denying it. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to get time off, and I didn’t want her struggling up those stairs or eating fast food. It was only a few days.”

Tate’s gaze softens, and he reaches out, hand hanging in the air, before he shoves it behind his back. Good. If he touches me, I’ll crumble, and twenty-four hours haven’t even passed since we invoked the no touching rule.

“Thank you.” He swallows. “I’m guessing you’re the reason she rejected the Meals on Wheels service and live-in aid.”

I smile at the floor. “You know Annie. I was bossing her around for once. She would overdo it and not rest. A lot like someone else I know.”

Tate grimaces.

“She’ll be mad about that.” I eye his inked rib cage. “What happened to your fear of needles?”

He shrugs. “Peer pressure. Everyone was getting one.”