Page 11 of My Hotshot

She turned her head to face me and grinned. “Yes, Mom. It was good, and it’s going to be even better once I take my test to get my learner’s permit.”

“What?” I squeaked, nearly swerving into the next lane.

Lottie burst out laughing. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You agreed that once we got settled, we’d go to the DMV.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong.

Ihadsaid that. But in my defense, I’d assumed “settled” would take much longer. I figured I’d have time to get used to the idea of my baby sitting behind the wheel of a car.

I had been very, very wrong.

The house was unpacked, our things were in all the right places, and the fridge was full. Hell, even the junk drawer was organized, which I considered the final boss of moving in. Lottie was thriving in school, and we hadn’t had a single emergency run to Target in over a week. We were settled.

“Mom,” Lottie said slowly, “the longer I wait to take the test, the more I’m going to forget. I took driver’s ed back in Oklahoma.”

“And we still need to find out if that counts in Texas.”

Lottie smirked like she had been waiting for that. “Already googled it. I’m a-okay to go.” She waved her phoneat me triumphantly. “All we need to do is call and make an appointment, and then I’ll be the one driving us around.”

I merged into the turning lane and headed toward home, trying to suppress the full-body wave of anxiety. “I’ll call... soon.”

Lottie getting her learner’s permit was big. Huge. It meant that my baby wasn’t a baby anymore. Once she got her license, I’d be relegated to the passenger seat—and then eventually, not even that.

“How about Monday?” she suggested casually, like she hadn’t just aged me a decade with her last sentence.

“Next Monday, or Monday in, like, seven weeks?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. “Monday as in today is Thursday, and you will be calling the DMV in three days.”

“Not in seven weeks?” I teased, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Mom,” she groaned, “you have to let me grow up a little bit.”

“Driving is more than growing up a little bit. It’s like... full-blown grown-up territory.”

“It’s just my learner’s permit. A baby step,” she reasoned. “You’ll get used to me driving with you, and then…”

“And then you’ll drive on your own, and I’ll never see you again.”

“Oh boy,” she laughed. “I think you’re being alittledramatic, Mom.”

I was. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t right.

“I’ll call the DMV on Monday and get you scheduled,” I said, pulling onto our street.

“Promise?” she asked, eyes wide with hope.

I nodded. “I promise I’ll call.” I didn’t promise that I’d schedule it for anytime soon, but that was a problem for future me.

We pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires, and I tapped the garage remote clipped to the visor. The door groaned and rattled its way up. I eased the car inside and hit the button again to shut it.

Lottie unbuckled and grabbed her backpack while I grabbed my purse. Inside, the house welcomed us with its usual quiet warmth. It might have taken a lot of sweat and one unfortunate hammer-to-finger incident, but this house finally felt like home.

Lottie set her bag on the kitchen island and collapsed onto one of the stools.

I went straight for the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and the container of sliced watermelon and strawberries I’d cut up last night. I set them in front of her and leaned against the counter.

“Do you have a lot of homework?”

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