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He hadn’t spoken to her since his big exit on the night of her party. On the one hand, he wasn’t sure how he felt about his mommy checking up on him. On the other hand, after roughly a decade of being left alone, he didn’t entirely mind. Especially since it seemed like she came in peace.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she said, kissing his cheek. “How are you? I brought you cookies.”
She pulled a plastic container from the tote bag she was carrying.
“You . . . baked?” Cheryl was a famously terrible cook. But if she’d gone to the effort, it could only mean she was really trying to make a gesture.
She placed the cookies on the kitchen counter, turned to look at him, and sighed. “Ryder. What you said at my birthday . . .”
He sighed. He really shouldn’t have made a scene.
“Mom, I’m sorry—”
“No!” she said, startling him. “No. Please don’t be sorry. That’s not it at all.”
He eyed her uncertainly. “Okay . . . Why don’t you tell me what it is then?”
“You called yourself a ‘screw-up.’” She winced as if the words were distasteful. “But you’re not.”
He laughed ruefully.
She shook her head. “I hate how disconnected we’ve been. Since you grew up really. It’s our fault, your father and I. You always wanted to do your own thing, and I don’t think we ever really knew what to make of that. And then you just left us behind, and I didn’t know how to make it better. But you have, you know. It means so much that you’ve been here these past weeks, showing up for your brother and all the wedding business. I know none of this is your thing.”
“I didn’t really do any of it for Noah, Mom.”
She cupped his cheek with her hand. “I know, dear.”
He wanted to ask exactly what the knowing glint in her eye was supposed to mean, but she stepped away to open the cookie container and continued speaking.
“And what you and Victoria did, what you felt you needed to do to make up for . . .”
Ah. “The scandal of me crashing the Pink Heart Ball and kissing her in the alley? Mom, if you’re here to tell me I shouldn’t have done that, I know—”
“No! That’s just it.” She handed him a cookie. “There’s nothing wrong with you coming to the ball or kissing Victoria.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Sweetheart. There’s nothing wrong with you. You know that, right?”
He looked down at his cookie. Chocolate chip, but it probably tasted like dirt. A lump was forming in his throat, but he ignored it. He was a grown-ass man. He was not going to cry in front of his mom.
She breathed out a shaky breath herself. “There’s nothing wrong with you at all, and I’m so sorry if we ever made you feel like there was.”
He didn’t trust himself to talk, so instead, he pulled her into a hug. She relaxed into him, her breath shuddering slightly. After a respectable minute or so, she pulled back. It was an awful lot of affection for them all at once.
“How about some coffee, Mom?”
“I would love that.”
He busied himself in the kitchen as she sat on one of the stools at the counter. After a moment, she said, “I saw Victoria, you know.”
He paused but did not look up. “How is she?”
“She’d be better if she saw you.”
That was most definitely untrue.
“Mom . . .”
She held up her hand. “No, no. You’re right. It’s your business. I need to let you do your own thing, whether I understand it or not. This is me, shutting my mouth.”
She grabbed a cookie and took a bite.
