*A Friends to Enemies to Lovers Romance*
Madalynn Reese never expected to see Liam Tucker again. Not after all of these years, and not after he broke all of their promises. But when she heads off to her dream college and runs into her ex-childhood b...
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Think of the last place you would want to be--inside a dumpster, knee deep in sewer, Target on Black Friday--and I would gladly rather be there than standing outside, in front of my mother's house.
After the enlightening conversation with Liam, I got in my Jeep and drove. At first, I had no notion of my direction. I just kept driving, all the while switching back and forth from ugly crying to rapping Baby Got Back.
I may have gone crazy.
Just like, a bit though.
Once I hit that state line however, I knew what my subconscious had already figured out.
My mother.
If I didn't get Liam's letter, my mother had to be behind it. And I was going to figure out why.
Taking several uncertain steps to the door, I took a deep breath in before lifting my fist to knock. A moment later, footsteps could be heard along the worn, hardwood floor inside. The door opened, revealing the exact opposite of the woman I have known as Mom.
Standing there in shock, before quickly replacing her parted lips into closed ones, was a weary woman dressed in pajama bottoms and a plain, white t-shirt. Her unkempt hair rested in a messy bun on top of her head and little makeup was on.
In all my life, my mother has always prided herself in her appearances. Despite what turmoil may be going on, on the inside, what we show on the outside is what counts--her words, not mine.
I, for one, am a huge believer in Pj bottoms and messy buns.
So, the fact that she was standing in front of me, and not dressed to the nines, was probably more shocking than me standing before her in the first place.
Her tired eyes narrowed in on me, searching my face, then my body. "Are you hurt?"
My eyebrows jumped forward, and I stupidly looked down at my own body as if checking. "No, Mom."
"You're pregnant, then."
"What? No!"
Why, do I look pregnant?
Sighing, I pressed my fingers to the side of my temple. "Can I just come in?"
Her lips twisted to the side for a moment before she stepped to the side, opening the door all the way, making room for me to walk through.
"If I had known you were coming, I would have put on a pot of tea. I know you love it."
I love coffee.
Don't get me wrong, I like tea. Sweet tea, that is. But the way my mom makes it--well it's an embarrassment to the South. First of all, you never put the sugar in after it's made and all cold.
But I'm not here to discuss the proper way to make a good glass of sweet tea. That could take a while, having that conversation with my mother, that is.
