Surprise Delivery(43)

“Thank you, Reginald,” I reply. “It’s good to see you as well.”

Reginald takes my bags from Jeffrey, who gives my mother and I a nod before slipping behind the wheel of the car again. He drives around the circular drive, then out to the back where the garages are.

“I can get that,” I tell Reginald as I reach for my bag.

“Nonsense, sir,” he protests. “I can manage quite well, thank you.”

I offer my mother my arm, and I walk her up the steps to the house. Elisa is standing there, holding the door open for us. She gives me a wide smile and a hug as I step through the doorway.

“It’s good to see you, Elisa,” I say.

“Your mother has been very worried about you, Mr. Duncan,” she says.

“Nothing to worry about,” I tell her. “We were perfectly safe.”

My mother scoffs and heads for the sitting room. I give Elisa a wink and follow her in as Reginald sets my bags by the door, making it easier for me to grab when I head back to my own condo later on. Or hell, maybe I’ll just spend the night here. It might be nice to have dinner and catch up with my mom.

I wander into the sitting room and she’s seated on one couch, a fire going in the fireplace. It’s cool outside, but I don’t personally think it’s cool enough for a fire. But hey, her house, her rules. I drop heavily onto the couch opposite her and notice the two glasses of scotch on the coffee table between us.

“Joining me for a drink?” I ask.

“I am of age, you know,” she says.

I laugh and pick up the glass as she takes hers. I lean forward, and we tap our glasses together, the ring of the crystal echoing around the room.

“To being home,” I toast.

“To having you back where you belong.”

We sit back and take a sip of our drinks, and I relish the smooth burn of it going down. The stuff I got over there was good, don’t get me wrong, but the stuff I get here – which my mom makes sure to have on hand for my visits – is better.

“Yeah, I missed this,” I say.

“I’m sure you missed a lot,” she replies.

I nod. “I’m dying for a thick, juicy burger,” I say. “Maybe a steak too.”

She laughs. “I take it the quality of beef over there was lacking?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“That explains why you look so sickly thin.”

I laugh. “I do not look sickly thin,” I protest. “I had routine checkups over there and I lost a grand total of three pounds. The food was good, just not what I’m used to.”

“Well, you still look awfully thin to me,” she winks. “I’m just thankful you’re home.”

“I’m really glad to be home, Mom.”

“So, tell me more about this Alexis Martin,” she says. “I’m more than a little intrigued.”

I honestly don’t know what to say without making myself sound like some teenage boy with a crush. I mean, honestly, I know very little about her in a practical sense. We swapped some stories and got to know each other a little bit, but it’s not like we spent enough time together to know each other’s most intimate details. That’s a situation I’m hoping to rectify, but it’s going to take a little time – and luck.

But still, how do I quantify my feelings? How can I explain this magical, mystical connection we shared? How can I tell my mom any of this without sounding like a complete babbling idiot?

I let out a breath. “Honestly, we only spent a few hours together,” I confide. “It was an intense few hours, but only a few hours all the same.”

She looks at me, an inscrutable expression on her face. “You came home for a woman you only spent a few hours with?”

I give her a wide grin and spread my hands as I shrug. “I never said it made any sort of logical sense.”

My mom laughs, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Love often doesn’t.”

“Whoa, pump the brakes there,” I protest, joining in her laughter. “Nobody ever said anything about love.”

“No, but it’s the next logical step,” she says. “I can tell you already care for this girl a great deal.”

I drain the last of my scotch. “That obvious, huh?”

“I’m your mother,” she says. “You haven’t been able to hide anything from me since you were a child.”

I stand up and offer to take her glass, but she shakes her head. My mom’s never been much for drinking and has barely touched what’s already in her glass anyway. I walk over to the sideboard and pour myself another stiff one before walking back and taking my seat on the couch again. She takes a small sip of her drink and looks at me expectantly.

“I don’t know what I feel, if I’m being perfectly transparent with you,” I sigh. “All I know is that the whole time I was over there, I couldn’t get her out of my head. I thought about her constantly.”

“Wow,” she says, a wry smirk on her face. “That must have been a far more intense few hours you spent with her than I originally imagined.”

I laugh and shake my head. “There’s just something about her that really clicked with me, Mom,” I try to explain. “We just shared this really powerful connection. I know we both felt it.”