Chapter 25

Evie

Idig through my suitcase. The sole item that isn't hiking clothes or flannel is a short-sleeve swimsuit cover-up. I bought the purple blousy frock on a trip with Caroline to Hawaii. Eight years ago. Not exactly high fashion. At the last minute, I tossed it into the bag along with my bikini, expecting that Caroline and I would take a soak in the resort's hot tub.

I throw it over my head. It's better than nothing.

Literally. Better than if I wore nothing. I'm not sure Adam would agree.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," I whisper to myself.

After another glance in the mirror, I grab my phone, hoping Adam has a suggestion for where to repair it. I'm halfway out the door when the screen flickers on.

Thank heavens. Disaster averted.

I kick myself for how I reacted to a dead phone. After years of working on being a truly independent woman, one hiccup has thrown off my mojo.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

My heart skips a beat when I see a string of missed calls and urgent messages. Jeffrey, Caroline, and my boss, Bill the Bull.

My son Jeffrey has left several voicemails, his voice tinged with worry. "Mom, this is my third try. It's Sunday for heaven's sake."

Sunday has come and gone in Rome, our usual day for weekly calls, and I had missed it entirely. By the fourth message, he went so far as to call the local Yosemite hospital searching for me.

Overwhelmed with guilt, I quickly dial Jeffrey's number. He answers on the second ring.

"Mom, where have you been?" he asks, his words rushing out. He sounds wide awake. It's two in the morning over there. I feel terrible.

"I'm so sorry, honey," I choke with emotion, much of it left over from my earlier panic. If the situation were reversed, I'd be beside myself. "My phone died, and I didn't realize it."

Jeffrey sighs, the tension in his voice melting into understanding. "It's okay, Mom. Just promise me you'll stay in touch. You scared me half to death."

I never thought I'd hear my youngest speak this way.

"I promise, sweetheart," I reassure him, my eyes welling up with tears. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Are you all right?"

He hesitates, then says, "Yeah. All good now."

I suspect something is going on between him and his father but I hold my tongue. Jeffrey is an adult now and unless he chooses to share, I won't get involved.

"The popcorn is turning cold," Adam calls out, cheerfully.

"Mom? Who's that?"

I pause, unsure of how to broach the topic. "Well, I met someone recently. His name is Adam, and we've been spending some time together." I omit the strange deal we've struck.

Jeffrey remains silent for a moment, as if processing the news. Then he yawns, loudly.

Adam is now standing in the doorway, eyeing me with concern.

I say into the phone, "Honey, why don't you go back to sleep. We'll speak again next Sunday or whenever you like. I want to hear all about your studies, when you're awake. Sorry again for worrying you. Love you."

I'm about to end the call when I hear my son add, "I'm glad you found someone, Mom."

Clearly, I've sent the wrong message. He seems to think Adam and I are dating, for real. "Actually, I?—"

"You sound happy. Just make sure he treats you right. Because if he doesn't I'm coming for him."

My baby is turning into a protective young man. If only I could slide through the phone and give him a big sloppy kiss. My eyes meet Adam's. "You have nothing to worry about," I say into the phone. "I'm in very good hands."

Five minutes after ending the call with my son, I'm seated on the delicious sofa, a giant bowl of popcorn the dividing line between me and Adam. I shoot out a quick text to Caroline saying I'll call her in the morning.

There's no point in calling Bill the Bull. The office is closed. Why he's calling on my time off, on a weekend, is beyond me. And a bit alarming. But there's nothing to do about it now. I'll deal with whatever it is in the morning. I drum my fingers on the edge of the bowl.

"Want to talk about it?" Adam asks, fiddling with the remote control. Clearly, he's picked up on my disquiet.

I consider his offer. We're supposed to learn everything about each other before Steph and Brad's wedding. But telling Adam about my earlier panic or about my boys' lives is too much, too soon. "I'm good. Thanks anyway."

Before I know it, Adam and I are watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail, laughing our heads off, all my earlier angst fading away.