Page 49 of My Best Friend's CEO Dad

“What questions?” I murmur a moment later.

“I asked him how he felt about you, how long it had been going on. I asked him if it was serious. I asked him why he needed me to get him to stop.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say.

“I wanted to wait for you to tell me,” she replies. “I thought you might want to keep it a secret forever, and I figured that was your decision. That’s why I asked him to promise he wouldn’t tell you, either.”

“What did he say?”

Mom sits on the other chair, interlocking her fingers. She’s got this borderline dreamy glint in her eyes as though she’s contemplating his words. “He said he’s never felt like this in his life. He said he can’t stop thinking about you—every second of every day. He said if it wasn’t for Kayla…”

We both glance at the house, but the back door is closed. Yet I can tell, despite the dreaminess in her eyes, Mom is as aware of the impending downfall as I am. She realizes that this could go very wrong, very fast.

“He’d be asking me a question.”

I swallow, thinking of marriage, wondering if it makes us crazy. “He said that to me, too,” I mutter. “But we can’t do that to Kayla, can we? She’s been through so much already.”

“Have you tried letting him go?” Mom asks.

“Yeah,” I say grimly. “Pretty much every single second of every day since it first happened.”

Mom nods, thankfully not asking me to give any more details. “I’ve always wondered about you, Maci,” she says. “I know you can be cruel to yourself about your appearance. I thought that was why you never had boyfriends, though I was certain you could have any boy you wanted. Now I think I know. You were waiting. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Like what?” I ask, but I know what she’s talking about. I feel like I’m glowing.

“Even with all the stress hanging over our heads,” Mom continues, “you can barely keep that smile off your face.”

“Kayla’s my best friend,” I say. “Lukas is more than twice my age. It’s not normal, Mom.”

“Since when did you spend your life stressing about what is and isn’t normal?” Mom counters. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Kayla—”

“Okay, yes, that, her. Yes, I’ll admit that, but I mean in terms of your age gap. All I care about is that he respects you and you’re happy. Those are my concerns.”

“He does,” I say, “and I am. I would be, but this is all academic, Mom. When we tell Kayla, everything’s going to come crashing down. There’s no way to avoid it.”

“When are you going to tell her?” Mom asks.

“After all this is over, I guess,” I reply. “We haven’t really talked about it. We haven’t had time, obviously.”

Mom nods, glancing up when a security guard walks around the pool perimeter. We’re both quiet until he’s out of earshot.

“Your father always said that to read somebody, you have to make an orb of your consciousness and throw it through their skull.”

I laugh. “That sounds like Dad.”

She smiles, but the dreaminess in her eyes turns sad. “He had this game he’d play when he first became a writer. He’d sit on a park bench and watch people. He’d throw this so-called orb of consciousness into other people’s heads. First, he’d imagine how it felt to physically be them, their shape, the texture of their clothes, if they were sweating, their shoes. Then he’d try to see through their eyes and fill his thoughts with what he imagined they were thinking. It was a way for him to enhance empathy for his novels.”

I take Mom’s hand. We’ve both dealt with the grief well, but it never fades entirely. There will always be a part of us that can’t stop missing him.

“I’ve tried it here and there,” Mom goes on. “I did it with Lukas. I’m sure he was telling the truth. He really cares about you, but he was also telling the truth when he begged me to make him stop. He’s an honorable man. He won’t pursue you without my blessing. When I saw how in love he was, I couldn’t.”

“In love,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Don’t go that far, Mom.”

She squeezes my hand. “I know love when I see it. I’ve been in love twice in my life.”

I gasp. “You love Mark?”

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