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“Yeah.” I take her hand, reminding myself I’m looking the part of the dutiful boyfriend and son and not focusing on how soft her skin is onmine.
“You don’t have to be. Not withme.”
Her calm words have my gaze finding hersagain.
The problem is, the better we get at acting, the less it feelsfake.
She’s beautiful, and in this moment with no one watching, it’s not even about sex. I want to crawl inside her, have her crawl insideme.
I brush the hair out of her face and rest my forehead against hers a moment before pulling back and starting toward the doors, our hands stilllinked.
We go to my mom’s room, and she welcomes us with a look of delighted surprise. “Daisy, it’s so good to seeyou.”
“You too, Ramona. It’s been awhile.”
“MBA graduation,” Isay.
“No,” Daisy and my mom say atonce.
“We all went to that fundraiser at the Met,” Daisyadds.
“You remember everything,” I teaseher.
The smile wavers. “Too much sometimes.” Daisy turns back to my mom. “Love thatpantsuit.”
Mom preens under Daisy’sapproval.
“I heard a rumor they’re rebooting your show. Can you tell me anything about that? In confidence ofcourse.”
Mom smiles slowly. “Of course I couldn’t tell you anything about that. But…” She goes to the desk and produces a sheaf of papers. “There might be ascript.”
I stare in astonishment. “You smuggled a script intorehab?”
“Literature is good for thesoul.”
I excuse myself and head down to the main desk. I find a receptionist at the desk and ask, “How long will my mother behere?”
“She can leave anytime.”
The gut-twisting is back. “That’s what I figured. Thankyou.”
I head back down thehall.
My mother’s voice drifts out the doorway when I approach. “Salvatore! Youcan’t.”
I frown, trying to place it, before realizing it’s her oldshow.
“But I already have, Anita. It’sdone.”
My head drops back at Daisy’s artificially lowered voice. I laugh as I listen to them. Eventually, I hear the rustling ofpages.
“That was fun, thank you,” Mom say warmly. “I haven’t had someone to read with inages.”
“My pleasure.” Daisy’s voice is back to normal, and she really does sound as if she enjoyedit.
I’m about to walk in when Mom’s next question stopsme.
“Have you shown my son the dress you’rewearing?”
