Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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It was a few days to the trip when my mom called and said she wanted to stop by.
“I just want to see where my daughter’s been living,” she said casually.
I was surprised she hadn’t asked until now. Not because she did care, but because… she usually kept her distance. Or maybe I’d been the one keeping it, in quiet ways I couldn’t admit out loud.
Still, I said okay.
But I asked Aaron first.
He loved his space. Not just the physical kind, but the curated, untouched sort. He wasn’t antisocial, but he wasn’t exactly the kind of man you could drop in on without notice. His home was his fortress, I needed to ask.
Whatever it is going on between us was still fresh and uncertain didn’t want to overstep.
“Can my mom come over?” I asked that evening. We were having dinner, my fork circling the rim of my plate like it held some kind of answer. “She just wants to see where I live p>
He didn’t even hesitate.
“Of course p>
Just like that.
And maybe that’s what made me nervous.
She came around noon.
I was already anxious. Not the kind that shows on the surface-I’d gotten good at hiding it—but the kind that lived under the skin. A low buzz in my bloodstream.
She wore one of her pastel blouses. The kind she wore to church or family friends’ weddings. Her smile was polite, practiced. The same one she gave to strangers she didn’t fully trust yet.
Her eyes swept over the apartment the moment she stepped inside. Every wall, every polished corner, every silent expression of wealth that surrounded her.
“This place is beautiful,” she said.
“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s… home p>
And it really was.
Not because of the size. Not even because of the view that spilled across the skyline like a dream. But because of the warmth that had crept in since Aaron and I had started figuring each other out. Because of the scent of his cologne lingering in the hall. The faint indentation of his book left on the couch. The coffee mugs in the sink we always forgot to rinse.
I showed her around like a tour guide.
Kitchen. Dining room. Balcony. Her comments were polite. Complimentary. Occasionally sincere.
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Chapter 85
Then, casually, she asked. “Where’s your room p>
Thesitated.
“Down the hall.” I said.
She tilted her head, one brow arched. “And Aaron’s p>
I blinked. “Also… down the hall p>
Her gaze sharpened. Just a little.
“You two don’t share a room p>
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I gave her a smile, one I hoped read as nonchalant. “Sometimes we do. But we both work late, and he gets up early. It’s just easier this way p>
She hummed.
A soft, disbelieving sound. But she didn’t press. Just nodded and followed me back to the living room.
“Can I get you something? Water? Juice p>
“Water’s fine p>
I left her on the couch and headed into the kitchen.
It didn’t take long. Three minutes at most.
But when I returned with the glass in hand, the living room was empty.
“Mom p>
No answer.
I set the glass down on the table and walked down the hall, slow steps on silent floors.
Before I could call out again, she stepped out of my room.
“Oh,” I said, startled. “I thought you were in the living room p>
“I needed to use the restroom,” she replied smoothly, adjusting the sleeve of her blouse. “Hope you don’t mind p>
I blinked. My room wasn’t connected to a bathroom. The guest restroom was closer. Two doors closer.
Still, I didn’t question it.
Just nodded. “No, of course. You okay p>
She gave a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “I think I’ll head home now p>
I frowned. “Already p>
She glanced at the clock. “Yes. I’ve got things to do, and you’ve got a trip coming up. No need to fuss p>
“I’ll drop you off,” I offered quickly.
“No need.” Her voice was firmer this time. “I can manage p>
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Chapter 84
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1 hesitated. Everything about her felt off. Not dangerous, Just… misaligned. Like a portrait that had been nudged off the nail.
“You sure p>
“Absolutely”
Once my mom set her mind on something, she doesn’t retract and I wasn’t really in the mood for an argument.
So I walked her to the elevator. Hugged her goodbye. Watched the doors slide shut.
And I just… stood there.
Because she hadn’t asked a single question about the trip. Or about Aaron. Or about how I’d been. She hadn’t joked about work. She hadn’t done any of the things a mother who was just curious about her daughter’s home would do.
She’d watched.
Listened.
Waited.
And then wandered into my room for just long enough.
I shook it off.
Tried to, anyway.
Aaron came home a few hours later.
I heard the front door open, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. I smiled instinctively.
“You’re back,” I said.
But he didn’t smile.
He just looked at me with this… intensity.
His gaze didn’t waver, didn’t soften. It was fixed on me, like he was trying to read something beneath the surface.
“What?” I asked quietly.
Still, he didn’t speak. He just stepped closer, eyes sweeping over me, stopping at my hands, my throat, then my eyes again. Searching.
“What is it?” I pressed.
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Ruby Walker
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.