LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(68)

The doorbell rang again. This time longer and more insistent, cutting him off. Scotty clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, do you think they heard?” he asked with a giggle.

I had no idea, but the embarrassment turning his cheeks a blazing red was absolutely worth it if they had. “I guess we’ll find out,” I said, reaching for the door. He shook his head, burying his face in his hands in mortification and ducking behind the door as I swung it open.

A woman I’d never seen before stood waiting on the other side. She was in her late forties, petite with wavy blonde hair and wearing drab clothes.

Instantly, my guard went up. I glanced past her, searching the darkness for evidence of any cameras or reporters hidden out of sight. “May I help you?” I asked rigidly.

She frowned. “Yes. I’m…” She trailed off, craning her neck to look past me. “Is Scotty here?”

Scotty’s head jerked up, his eyes going wide. “The fuck?” He grabbed the door, yanking it wider until he could see the woman.

“Mom?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

Her face brightened. “Scotty—”

Before she could finish the statement, Scotty swung the door, slamming it closed in her face. The bang of it echoed through the house, followed by silence.

He stood rigidly still, arms stiff by his sides, mouth open as he dragged in lungfuls of air as if he’d just finished sprinting a mile.

I stared at him a long moment. “Um, Scotty?” I finally asked.

He didn’t take his eyes from the door. “Yeah.”

“That was your mom?”

“Yes.”

He said nothing more. “Do you… maybe want to invite her in?”

“No.”

I wasn’t really quite sure how to respond to that. The entire situation was utterly confusing. I’d never seen Scotty as anything other than gregarious, outgoing, and welcoming. This seemed completely unlike him. “I thought you and your mom had a good relationship?”

“We do. I mean, more or less.”

Well, that made even less sense.

“Scotty, honey, let’s talk about this,” his mother called, her voice muffled by the thick wooden door.

Scotty’s eyes closed and he let his head fall forward. “Fuck.”

“Didn’t she just get out of jail yesterday?” I asked.

He ground his teeth together. “Yes. And she was supposed to stay in the city.”

“Scotty? Honey?” she called again.

He shoved a hand through his hair and turned to look at me. “What the fuck is she doing here?” he asked, as if I would somehow know.

“We could… open the door and ask her,” I offered.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

I racked my brain, trying to understand why Scotty was acting so out of character. He and his mother had shared an apartment before, and he’d never said anything that made me think he had a problem with her being in his life. He’d even sold his horse to send her money the day before. If he hated her so much that he couldn’t even stand to be around her, why would he give up his most precious possession to help her?

“Scotty…” I reached out and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, approaching him the way I’d approach a feral cat or stray dog. He was acting so strangely I was afraid he might bolt at the slightest touch. But instead he sagged, the tension seeping from his muscles.

“You don’t understand, Roman,” he said. “She can’t see us together. She just can’t.”

Oh. So the issue wasn’t her. The issue was me. Specifically, him being seen with me. What I didn’t understand was why. “Are you not out?” I asked him.

For the first time, his eyes met mine. His forehead crinkled in confusion. “Out of what? What are you talking about?”

“The closet,” I explained.

Scotty threw up his hands in an overly dramatic way. “Do I look like I’m trying to hide the gay? Jesus, Roman, don’t be an idiot. I’m too pretty to be straight.”

He was very pretty. That was true. I wasn’t sure what that had to do with being gay, but he didn’t seem like he’d be receptive to me asking clarifying questions.

“Then what—”

Scotty blew out an aggravated breath. “She’s a con woman, Roman. She’ll rat you out to the paparazzi soon as look at you.”

Oh. So he was doing this to protect me. A part of my heart warmed at the thought that he cared so much. “Why don’t we just ask her not to?”

He stared at me a long moment and then blinked. “Yeah. That’ll work. Laws, she’ll break on a whim, but a pinky swear—now that’s some serious shit right there.”

I reached for him, drawing him against me and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Scotty, I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me from her or from the media, whatever. And that’s very sweet of you. But this is your mom. And she’s come a long way. It wouldn’t feel right to turn her away when we have 10,000 square feet of extra room here. At least for the night and we can figure out what to do with her tomorrow. How much trouble can she get in in one night?”

“A lot, Roman,” he said, eyes wide. “Like metric crapton levels of trouble.”