All the Way (Romancing Manhattan #1)(50)

“That’s good news. What’s on deck for tomorrow?”

“I’m meeting with the choreographer and Jeffrey to run some lines together. It’s starting to happen quickly now.”

“When do you have to be back in L.A. to start production?”

“In three weeks.”

“It’ll be here before you know it,” I reply. “This is exciting, and I’m looking forward to you being home soon.”

“Me too. I’m homesick for sure.”

“Oh, I have news for you.” I pull into my mother’s driveway and put the car in park. “I called to check on the trust like you asked, and Kyle did apply for funding for rehab. It sounds like he was honest about that.”

“That’s really good news.”

“I still don’t trust him,” I add. “Just because he’s applied for the funding doesn’t mean that he’ll actually go.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “Trust me, no one knows that better than me. I’ve been through this many times with him. But, he’s my brother, Finn. I’ll always hope that he’s being honest, even when I know he probably isn’t.”

“As long as you stay on your toes with him, and don’t blindly trust him.”

“You’ve known me awhile now. You know that’s not how it is with Kyle and me.”

“You’re right.” I nod, even though she can’t see me, and drag my hand over my face. “I’m a little protective in this situation.”

“And I appreciate it, but I’ve got this one. Cautious optimism is the name of the game here.”

“Okay, babe.”

“What are you up to?”

“I just pulled into Mom’s driveway. I thought I’d come check on her, spend a little time with her.”

“There you go, being a nice guy again,” she replies.

“If you call me a mama’s boy, I’ll never speak to you again.”

She laughs. “No, that you’re not. Tell her I said hello, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, sweetheart.”

“You too.”

I love you.

But rather than say it, I end the call. I walk into Mom’s house.

“Hello?” I call out.

“Finn?” she calls from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

“The one and only,” I reply as I join her. She’s building a turkey sandwich. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m grateful that it’s you and not your ridiculous brother.”

“What has Quinn done now?”

“He calls me no less than five times a day, just to make sure I’m okay. I’m surprised it’s not him showing up, because he does that most evenings as well.”

“He loves you.”

“He’s smothering me,” she says, and cuts the sandwich in half, then offers me one.

“Thanks.” I take it and bite into it, instantly thrown back thirty years in time. “You always made the best turkey sandwiches.”

“The trick is to not put too much mustard on them,” she says, leading me to the living room, where we both sit down and enjoy our food. “Why aren’t you with London tonight?”

“She’s in L.A. until Wednesday,” I reply. “She had to sign contracts for her next project, and has some other meetings. But I just talked to her, and she said to tell you hi for her.”

“I truly like that woman,” Mom says with a smile. “She’s got a brain in her head, and she doesn’t just smile and do your bidding like the other bimbos you’ve dated.”

“I don’t think they were bimbos,” I reply, but she just shakes her head.

“None of them were wife material. You don’t want a woman who’s more concerned with the way she looks than she is about having a career. Those girls didn’t want a career, they wanted a rich man—you—to swoop in and take care of them.”

She’s not wrong.

“Well, it obviously never worked out with any of them,” I say. “And thank God for it, because London is absolutely the woman for me. Like you said, she’s intelligent, and funny. She loves an adventure. She’s not afraid to call me out on my shit.”

“Finally, you’ve fallen in love.”

I nod, but don’t reply, and Mom narrows her eyes at me.

“You have told her you love her, haven’t you?”

“She knows I love her.”

“Dear God, how did I manage to raise a couple of idiots?” She shakes her head and looks to the ceiling, as if the answers are written there. “How is she supposed to know? Because she can read your mind?”

“I’ve mentioned love before.”

“But have you said I love you, London?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

I shift in my chair, uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “That’s a good question. She hasn’t said it either, you know.”

“Youth is wasted on the young,” she mutters. “Do you know, my sweet boy, that I would give literally anything in this world to be able to tell your father that I love him, even one more time? He was the love of my life, and I waited a long time for him to come into my life. He took his sweet time about it.