Page 60 of Crave Thy Neighbor

I nod, having known his apology was coming before he even started. It’s what he does. “It’s fine.”

It’s not, but we’ll talk about it later when Sam’s not lurking around the corner.

“Where’s your car?” he asks, realizing my little Honda isn’t in the driveway.

“Flat tire. I got a ride from a friend.”

He slides his eyes past me toward where Nolan’s parked on the curb.

“That the roommate Sammy told me about?”

I glance over my shoulder, peeking back at Nolan, who’s watching us with curious eyes.

He looks ready to pounce out of the truck at any moment, and I appreciate that he’s there to have my back if I need it.

Though Patrick can be a dick at times, Nolan doesn’t need to worry. I can handle him myself.

“Yep.”

“You didn’t tell me you were moving in with some guy, Maya.” He doesn’t sound jealous—probably because he knows better—but he does sound worried.

“It’s just temporary,” I explain. “I’m waiting on a new-build apartment to open up leasing.”

“I wish you would have come to me before you moved in with a stranger.”

“That’s not your job anymore, Patrick.”

His mouth opens like he wants to argue that point, then he snaps it back closed with a nod, realizing it’s moot.

“Besides,” I continue, “Nolan isn’t a stranger. He’s best friends with River’s boyfriend.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Evans.” He clears his throat. “He’s, like, the coolest teacher ever, Dad,” he mocks in Sam’s high-pitched puberty whine.

I laugh. “Yep, the one and only.”

“Do you think Sammy likes him more than me?”

“Shit, I think he likes him more thanme, and we both know I’m the favorite parent.”

There’s the briefest flash of hurt in Patrick’s eyes, and I wonder for a moment if there’s something he’s not telling me. It vanishes just as fast though, and he laughs at my joke.

He clears his throat. “You really should get a house, you know. Apartment living is for the birds, and the market isn’t awful right now. I bet you could find something on your budget.”

He doesn’t mean for the words to sting, but they do anyway.

“I’m fine with apartment living for now, thank you.” I’m not, but I don’t want him to know that. “It’s nice to see you still worry about me.”

“You’re the mother of my favorite son. I’ll always worry about you.”

“Hey! I’m your only son,” Sam says, ambling down the stairs, carrying much more than he came here with.

My first instinct is to scold Patrick for buying him so much stuff, but it’s another conversation for another time.

“You ready?” I ask him, reaching for a bag so he can hug his dad.

“Yep.”

“I’m heading out now, too,” Patrick says, grabbing his briefcase from the spot by the door where he always keeps it and following us onto the porch.

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