Page 12 of Unrivaled

“Alright,” Autumn says. “That was really good. Let’s run it one more time, and then I think we can get out of your hair and let you get back to taking care of your son, Tiffany.”

“Take all the time you need,” Mom chimes in, proving my thought that pretending she’s not here is impossible.

Autumn gives her a smile as we all resume our places and run it again. This time, Jackson trips over a few of his lines, blushing every time, so we have to do a third run through to be sure we all have our lines and blocking solidified.

When we’re finally done, Autumn pulls me into a hug before leaving. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime, maybe without the rehearsal. Or we can hang out somewhere else, and you can bring Ben too if you want. Either way, let’s hang out again. I don’t know what happened at Jackson’s, and I’m sorry for making you go. I won’t suggest that again, alright?”

Blinking at her unexpected offer, I just stammer out an, “Oh, uh, alright.”

She beams at me and puts her jacket on.

Jackson raises a hand and gives me a small smile, his hazel eyes warm. “See you in class tomorrow, Tiffany.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind them, I flop down on the couch next to Ben and my mom. He climbs into my lap, and Mom stands to gather up the remains of the snacks she put out. “They seem nice,” she says in that tone of voice that’s too casual to be real.

“Uh-huh,” I agree warily. “They are.”

“They’re the friends who invited you to their get-together the other night?”

“Yeah. What’s your point, Mom?”

She shrugs, setting the dishes in the kitchen, then standing in the doorway, her shoulder propped against it as she studies me. “Just that it’s good for you to have friends again. It’s okay for you to go out and have fun, even as a mom. What’s that boy Jackson’s story? Are he and Autumn an item?”

Holding back my chuckle, because I can see where she’s going with this a mile away, I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Doesn’t mean he wants to date me, though.”

Shrugging again, she straightens. “Doesn’t meant he doesn’t, either. You’re young. He’s cute. It’s okay to date, too.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

She holds up her hands and steps back into the kitchen. “I’m just saying. I want you to be happy, baby girl.”

I soften at that, dropping a kiss on Ben’s head, noticing that his eyes are nearly closed. Standing, I heft him into my arms. “I appreciate that. I want to be happy, too. But for right now, I think I need to get this one to bed.”

Mom crosses to me and rubs Ben’s back, giving him a kiss on the head too. “I’ll take the morning off so you can go to your classes. Your dad will be home in time to watch him for your late afternoon class.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I give her a kiss on the cheek, grateful for her support, even if it does include trying to meddle in my love life.

She’s a good mom, and, like she said, she wants me to be happy.

As a mom myself, I can understand that.

CHAPTER FIVE

Gray

“Thanks again for hiring me, Mrs. Kilpatrick,” Jackson says as we head into the kitchen, just getting back to my parents’ house from helping Mom move furniture around one of the houses she’s designing. The furniture was delivered yesterday, but apparently Mom can’t figure out where she wants everything until it’s all actually in the house. We carried one couch to four different spots in each of three different rooms before finally carrying it back where we started.

Mom sets her purse on the counter and levels a glare at Jackson. “How many times have I told you to call me Melissa? Mrs. Kilpatrick is my mother-in-law, and I won’t be as old as her for many, many years.”

Jackson shrugs, and I chuckle as I grab a couple of glasses out of the cabinet and fill them from the fridge dispenser. “I’m not sure you’re going to get your way on that one, Mom.”

Another shrug from Jackson. “My mom raised me to show respect to my friends’ parents. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“Be that as it may,” she says as she pulls an envelope out of her purse, “I would prefer to be called Melissa.” She sets the envelope on the counter in front of him but doesn’t lift her hand, staring him down.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, sounding agreeable, but I can’t help grinning, because we all know he’s not actually agreeing.

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