“Who’s that?” Mom asks.

“Uh …” I shake my head and work to unlock the door without dropping the keys again. “Guy who lives upstairs.”

“Do you know him well?”

The door opens and a bit of relief washes over me as I step inside and lock it behind us.

“No.” I toss my bag on the counter and wash my hands. After Doug’s close proximity, I feel like I need a shower to wash the essence of his creepiness off my whole body. “With the exception of Erica, I don’t really know anyone in my building. So what brings you by?”

She pulls out a chair to my small round kitchen table and takes a seat while releasing a long sigh. “Sherri called me.”

“Sherri? As in Griffin’s mom?” I lean back against my kitchen counter and cross my arms over my chest.

“Yes. She’s worried about you. And now I am too. Why didn’t you come to me last week when you and Griffin were having trouble?” Her words are laced with as much pain as is shown on her face.

“I wanted to. It’s just …” I love my mom. And after I graduated high school and started college, we were friends. The pressure of being something extraordinary was gone, and we were able to have a normal mother-daughter relationship. But then my dad died.

“It’s about your father?”

I nod.

“I’m still your mother. I’m always here for you. Do you know how it made me feel to have Sherri be the one to tell me what happened?”

“I’m sorry.” I cringe. “I feel like you’re still struggling with dad’s death. I don’t want to be another burden on you.”

“I’m fine, Swayze.”

“You’re not fine. It’s been over a year and you haven’t picked up a camera. You haven’t worked. You haven’t cleaned out his closet. And when we have dinner together, all we do is talk about dad.”

“He’s my husband and your father. What’s wrong with remembering him?”

“He was your husband.”

“Swayze …” Her lips tilt downward.

“I loved him too. I miss him too. But it’s like our relationship is nothing but memories of the past. If you showed any interest in my life now, my job, my relationship with Griffin, basically anything, then maybe I would have felt like your shoulder was the one I needed to cry on last week.”

The woman before me breaks my heart. She’s not even fifty and she’s acting like an eighty-year-old widow waiting out the rest of her life. My mom is beautiful. Guys have always looked at her. I may not have seen my parents all over each other with grand displays of public affection, but I saw my father stare down more than one guy who dared to look too long at her.

“You don’t understand.” Her head drops, eyes cast to the floor.

“Then make me understand. Let me help you.”

“I have a psychiatrist.”

I laugh. “I know. And clearly he’s doing a great job.”

“Swayze …” Her eyes cut to mine.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you last week. Griffin and I made up. But there’s a lot going on in my life right now that I want to share with my mom. Not the grieving woman who meets me for dinner once a week, but my mom. The one who used to roll her eyes at me picking out sexy bras and panties when I got my first boyfriend in college. You bought me a box of condoms and a tube of lubricant for my nineteenth birthday. For two years between my second year of college and dad dying … you were the coolest mom—the coolest friend—ever.”

“I’m not trying to be this way. I just feel like I can’t find my direction.”

I nod. “I know. But you’ll never find it if you spend all of your time looking back. You don’t have to forget him. You just …” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess you need to find a way to embrace the living a little more.”

A sad smile tugs at her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m going to try to be better.”

“Okay.” I match her sad smile.

“I was cool.” Her face lights up. “Wasn’t I?”

I chuckle. “The coolest. The kind of cool that would have embraced Griffin instead of losing her shit over his tattoos and ‘steroid’ muscles when we first started dating. The cool version of you would have whipped out your camera and snapped a million images of his body to the point of completely embarrassing me.”

She laughs a little. “I miss that mom of yours too.” As I walk toward her, she stands and we hug it out.

I had no idea how much I really missed and needed my mom until this moment.

“This Thursday we talk about you. That’s it.” She pulls back and presses her palms to my cheeks.

“We talk about us.”

She nods. “Deal.” After kissing me on the forehead, she grabs her purse and opens the door. “I love you. That much has never changed. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“Whoa … Krista …” Griffin’s voice sounds from the stairwell. “It’s not Thursday.”

“Very funny, young man. I’m allowed to see my daughter on other days too.”

He chuckles, pulling her in for a hug that makes me giggle because I know she didn’t see it coming.

“I’m glad you two are good.” She gives him an awkward smile as he releases her.

Griffin glances at me.

I shake my head. “Your mom told her. Not me.”

A wrinkle of pain pulls at his brow when his gaze returns to my mom. “It was a bump. We’re good.”

She heads down the stairs. “I’m glad. Call me anytime, Swayze. Even if it’s not a Thursday.”

“Bye, Mom.”

Griffin steps inside my apartment and closes the door, leaning back against it with his head turned to the side.

“I wondered if—”

“Shh.” He holds a finger to his lips and presses his ear to the door. “Okay. She’s gone.”

I giggle. “What are you doing?”

He tugs at the button to his jeans, giving me a heated look as he pulls down the zipper. “On your knees.”

I shoot him the hairy eyeball. “Really? You just embraced my mom. It was a special moment. I had tears in my eyes.”

“It was special. I had tears in my eyes too. Now … on your knees.” He releases himself from his briefs and strokes his cock, but it seems plenty hard without him needing to stroke it anymore.

“You did not have tears in your eyes.” My gaze stays glued to his hand fisted around his cock. And because I want to … I kneel in front of him.

“Happy … fucking … birthday to me.” He moans as my tongue circles the head of his erection. His fingers thread through my hair.

I take him partway into my mouth and look up at him.

Griffin smirks. “Tell me about your day, babe.” He really wants to know. That’s indisputable. However, this is also his way of dragging out this blowjob for the next fifteen minutes. But one of the most endearing things about him—his genuine interest in my day—is the reason I can’t do this. He should have just tilted his head back and enjoyed my mouth wrapped around him.

I sit back on my heels and laugh, covering my face with my hands. It’s a long, hearty laugh that seems to last forever. When I finally catch my breath and peek up, Griffin has something between a smirk and a scowl affixed to his beautiful face. He’s tucked himself back into his briefs, but his jeans are still unfastened and his sinewy, tattooed arms cross his chest.

“I’m sorry.” My hand flies to my mouth to cover up my giggles that negate the apology I just gave him.

“You look it.” His eyes narrow as he zips and buttons his jeans.

I feel badly. I really do. Every inch of Griffin is perfection. There’s not too many women who wouldn’t give their right nipple to have what’s right in front of me. My craving for his body is real, but so is the embarrassing day I’ve had.

He holds out his hand. A look of aggravation still clings to his face. I take it and he helps me up. Curling my hair behind my ears, I suck in a deep breath to chase away the giggles.

“I thought I texted you this morning about a blowjob.”

Shaking his head, his perturbed expression intensifies. “You didn’t text me.”

“I know, I said I thought I did. I accidentally sent it to Nate instead.”

His head cocks to the side. “This better be a joke, and it’s not a funny one.”

“It’s fine.” I laugh. “He’s not upset. It was just really embarrassing.” I grab his shirt and lean up for a kiss, but he pulls back.

“You sent a suggestive text to another man. It’s not fine.”

“What is your problem?”

He brushes past me, resting his hands on his hips, while he looks up at the ceiling. The frustration rolling off him almost suffocates the room. “Why do you think if my opinion differs from yours that it means I have a problem?”

“This is about your birthday again. Maybe we should talk about it now.”

“No.” He turns. “This is about the text you sent your boss. What did it say?”

“I don’t remember.”