Page 10 of Coast to Coast

My mother was a New York Times bestselling author of twelve women’s fiction novels but also happened to write steamy dark romances under a pen name. She had kept that part of herwriting career silent for years, with only her editor and publisher knowing that Diana Douglas was also D.D. Gray.

Monica and I had been caught up reading her dark mafia series, a BookTok and BookStagram sensation, not knowing that it was my mother’s brain creating these fucked up yet amazingly addictive storylines. Finding out the books were the result of my mother’s fantasies wasn’t as bad as when I coaxed their cat Myrtle out from under my parent’s bed, only to find bondage hooks. I wanted my parents to be healthy and happy, but I didn’t need to know those details.

“What’s this one?” PJ asked about the book nervously. Only a small circle of friends knew about my mother’s pen name, and while it was more lucrative than her women’s fiction sales, we worried that it could be a source of scorn.

“This one is safe for work,” Dad winked.

We gathered around the island and waited for Mom while Dad prepped steaks for the grill. Dad put on his apron, and we all stared at him, horrified. The apron said, My meat, your mouth, no bones about it.

“Dad! Come on, that’s not for family night,” Juno cried out, unable to hide her disgust.

Dad laughed. “Sorry, kids, this was a gift from your Gram. If I had to open it with a straight face as she described my ‘Mouth-watering meat’ when we invited her over with the Grants for a barbecue last week, you all could handle me wearing it.”

“For real?” I asked. None of us could ever get a read on whether Gram knew her comments were inappropriate or if she was overly literal.

“Yup,” Dad answered with a loud pop of the P.

“Hey, I noticed some activity at the Collins’s old house. Do you know who bought it?” I asked.

“Rumor has it, a pitcher from the Minutemen is moving in with his family. They’re fully remodeling it, though. The Collins had an interesting taste in home decor,” Dad answered.

Hmmm, interesting. What were the odds that Sam and Kelsey had bought a house down the street from my parents? That could make hiding my nanny position a little trickier.

I sat quietly and slipped my phone from my back pocket, texting Monica while my family gossiped about the new neighbors.

Me: Hey, Mon, quick question.

Monica was always on her phone; her clients relied on her nearly twenty-four hours a day, which meant she was terrible at creating boundaries for herself. Her reply was almost instant.

Monica: What’s up?

Me: I’m at my parents' house for dinner. Do you remember the house where the Collins family lived?

Monica: Yeah, great house, but a little odd.

Me: Rumor has it that a baseball pitcher is renovating it before moving in. What are the odds that I now know this pitcher?

Monica: Oooh, yeah. I can check the address, but they recently closed on a house in Concord. Shit, I never thought about that.

“Who are you texting?” PJ asked.

“Monica, I was just checking to see if one of her clients bought the Collins’ house,” I grimaced at both my siblings. Both of them immediately understood the web I’d found myself in,and if Sam and Kelsey were going to be my parents’ neighbors, I couldn’t say I was working for the Blizzards.

“Looks like the world is smaller than I thought it was,” I said with a shrug.

“How is Monica?” PJ attempted to play off his question, but anyone who’d watched either of them over the years knew that there was more to PJ’s seemingly innocent question.

“Why don’t you reach out and ask her?” Juno piped in, knowing PJ preferred to watch her from afar. Something had happened between them, and since then, they’d done this awkward dance, avoiding each other. Before then, they had been almost as close as she and I were. Monica would have been invited to join every family dinner in years past but stopped accepting invitations if she knew PJ would be there.

“Hey, everyone, sorry to hold you up,” Mom breezed into the kitchen in time for PJ to get out of answering Juno’s question. “I see your father has brought out Gram’s host gift!”

“Horrifying,” Juno said as we all lined up to hug and kiss our mother.

Mom then filled us in on her discussion with her editor. She was set to release her next mainstream novel the following Spring, with final edits due soon. She always felt the most insecure about her work during this part of the publishing process. In some rounds of editing, she’d been forced to cut some of her favorite scenes.

Thankfully, Monica’s text arrived before I lied to my family.

Monica: Yep. They’ll be neighbors.

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