Page 103 of Tangled Emotions

“Matthew, please stop yelling in the house.”

Mom poked her head in my room. “How was last night?”

“So good.” I smiled. “Thanks for watching him.”

“No problem.” She chuckled and turned to leave. “Have fun.”

“Wait.” I hopped off my bed and went to her. “Do you know what he has planned?”

“Oh, yeah.” Her laughter grew. “I promise. You’ll love it.”

I heard the water running, which told me he was filling the tub, and I heard cabinets being slammed shut in the kitchen. Then his feet as he ran through the house again.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” I went out to the living room and almost sat in my chair when Matthew popped up.

“Okay, Mom. Your bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Matt.”

Taking my phone into the bathroom, I noticed the tub was almost full. There’s some light green oil floating on the surface, along with some rose petals. On the vanity there’s a lit candle, and on the floor sitting beside the tub was a bottle of sparkling grape juice along with a champagne flute beside it.

“Go ahead and get in.” He urged. “You don’t want your water to get cold.”

“Good point.”

He left me to my bath, so I striped down and as I stepped into the water, it’s not the hot water I expected. It’s more of a lukewarm.

“Mattie?”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Did you use hot water?”

“I did, but not too much. Because I didn’t want to burn you.”

“Gotcha.”

“Is it okay?”

“Oh yeah, it’s perfect.” I bit my lip for lying to my son, but I can see how much thought he’s put into this, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings.

Waiting until I know he’s not lurking outside of the door, I let some of the water out and added more hot. The rose petals give a nice, delicate scent, and with the addition of the hot water, there’s a fruity scent as well. It’s an interesting mix, to say the least.

My hair was up in a loose bun, and between the nap and now this my body is thanking me after last night. Playing with arandom rose petal, I smiled, thinking of Frank and how he made me feel.

I made up my mind last night that I wanted to tell Matthew who Frank was. Tonight, over dinner, we can lay it all out. I think he’ll be pleased when he learnshisbeloved Doc wasmyFrank.

My Frank.

Picking up my flute of grape juice, I noticed a bottle in the trash.

My good olive oil bottle.

“Oh. Tell me he didn’t.” I sighed. “Matt!”

I heard his feet stomp through the house. “Yes, Mom?”

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