Page 33 of Press Play

He steps closer, but I can’t take my eyes off her. She hasn’t moved, but at the same time, it’s like she’s pulling me toward her.

“Do you see my mother?” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Theo freezes for a beat. “What? No,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to puzzle me out.

But I barely hear him. My hands are ice cold, trembling as I grip the the cart. She’s too still, too solid, like she’s waiting for me to break. My stomach churns, the edges of my vision blurring.

“She’s here,” I murmur, barely able to force the words out. “She’s right there. By the sauce.”

“Wren, that’s not your mother.” His voice is firmer now.

“She’s standing right there! Can’t you see her?”

Theo’s eyes follow my trembling finger, scanning the aisle. The silence stretches, too long, too heavy.

My chest heaves, waiting for him to see what I see.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, almost hesitant. “Wren?” he says, glancing back at me, his brow furrowed. “No. It’smymother.”

I blink hard, my breath hitching as the figure sharpens. The hair is wrong, curlier. The face is softer somehow. My throat tightens as realization crashes down.

It’s Theo’s mom.

Not mine.

My knees almost give out as I grip the cart for balance. Theo’s gaze on me, his presence steady and warm, grounding me even as my mind spins.

Theo steps closer, his hand brushing mine on the cart, his voice low and steady. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

But I’m not. I can still feel the ghost of her eyes on me, even though she was never really there.

I clear my throat and square my shoulders. “Sorry about that.”

“Hey, it’s all right.” He squeezes my forearm, and I force a smile.

Malory Torres is the mom I never had. She took care of me, fed me, and ensured I felt safe in her home. From the moment I met her, I knew she had a genuine soul. If this were a normal day, I would run toward her and hug her until my arms gave out. But this isn’t a normal day, and this definitely isn’t a usual circumstance.

Mal has made her stance clear. She wants Theo and me together. From day one, she dropped hints, saying we would have cute children. Since then, it’s gotten progressively worse. If she sees us together shopping for food, she’s going to ask questions. And neither of us is ready for the storm that is Malory Torres.

“We should leave,” I whisper.

“We can’t leave,” he responds.

“Why not?”

“I’m looking forward to the dinner you have planned.”

If this man isn’t thinking with his second head, he’s thinking with his stomach.

“Fine, we’ll move slow and stay out of her line of sight,” I offer.

“Good idea.”

We wait until she leaves the aisle, and when she does, we make the turn and grab the items on my list. We scan the next section, and Theo ushers me forward, keeping our heads low. My heartbeat quickens with each passing moment.

“This is torture,” I grumble while we approach the frozen section.

“We’ve got this down to a science. The Department of Spies should hire us.”

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