Page 17 of By The Book
“Of course.”
“Okay. I agree. So who’s getting married?”
Chapter 8
The following morning, Claire knocked on Tommy’s bedroom door before letting herself inside. Her son was still asleep, looking adorably rumpled and much too old given the way his long, lanky form sprawled both on and off the twin bed.
She shook her head at the clothes he hadn’t put away and set about quietly straightening the room. Her father had always been particular about the house, though she’d noticed things had lapsed a bit since her mother had passed.
She gathered Tommy’s slides and set them toward the end of the bed when she spotted a cord sticking out from under the coverlet.
Blood pressure rising, she gently tugged and, sure enough, the game system that was supposedly secure in her bedroom closetwasn’t. “Oh, no, you didn’t. Tommy? Tommy, wake up.”
She got to her feet and jostled his shoulder, getting a nasty four-letter response from him. “Excuseme? You did not just use that kind of language with me.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, Mom. Wake up. Now.”
“Why?” he asked with a groan while pulling the pillow over his head. “I thought we’re on vacation?”
“I can’t believe you. One day? You couldn’t behave foroneday?”
“What are you—”
He rolled over in time to see her bend and pull the bag from beneath his bed, and his eyes widened. Claire shook her head back and forth. “You bought yourself another month.”
“No!”
“Yes.Threesuspensions, bad grades, and now this? Tommy, what are you thinking?” she asked as she turned.
Tommy grabbed her so fast Claire didn’t know what happened. One minute she was walking away from the bed and the next she tumbled backward, gasping from the pain of his grip on her arms as he toppled her to the bed and scrambled over her.
“It’s mine!”
“Tommy!”
The wrestling match lasted mere seconds but seemed like hours, her son stronger as he tightened his grip until she was forced to let go. He rolled off the bed, kneeing her in the process, and took off out the door in only his boxers.
“What’s going on in there?” her father asked from the hallway.
Claire quickly wiped the pained tears from her eyes and got to her feet so that, by the time her father entered the room, she was bent over the bed, making it up.
“Claire?”
“Sorry, Dad, did we wake you?”
“You’d wake the dead with all the racket you two were making. What happened?”
She had to sniffle and swallow the lump in her throat. “Uh, Tommy. He got excited b-because I let him have his game system back earlier than expected.”
“Well, where’d he go with it?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll ask when he gets back.” Claire felt her father’s gaze boring a hole into her as she fussed over the bed, but he eventually seemed satisfied with her answers and left.
Seconds later, she heard him in the kitchen filling the coffeepot. Her weak knees folded as she sat on the edge of the taut covers and wrapped her arms around her waist to hug.
What on earth had just happened?
