His interests lay toward partying, being photographed with models, and more partying. The last scandal had put him in a huge exposé for Camille Story’s largely popular gossip website. The girl was invited to all the rich and famous parties, gossiped on them, and somehow remained within their circles.

I’d only caught the last article on him because my last roommate sent me a link, the subject line gushing, “I KNOW YOU LOVE HIS DAD! EAT YOUR CYBER HEART OUT!”

I’d just moved back home after graduating, and I wanted to read up on him. He’d been in a car accident after flipping off the paparazzi. Exiting that article, I’d been jealous of him. It’d been an odd reaction. I’d admitted that to myself then, wondering why I was envious of this rich kid’s exploits, but then I’d shrugged it off and went to make spaghetti for when my mom got off her shift.

When I got to my floor, my stomach was heaving all over the place.

Even my hand was shaking.

It was then, opening the hotel door, that I remembered.

I forgot the Tums.

SIX

Chrissy was rifling through the minibar when I got back from my second trip, Tums in hand this time. A pile of single-serving alcohol bottles was on the table, along with candy bars, sugar candy, and bags of chips. She popped up, a robe on, bare feet, and her hair wrapped in a towel.

“Hey, honey!” She saw the Tums in my hand. “Great! You got ’em.”

She scooped up all the food and alcohol, leading the way to the bathroom. The tub was filled up, with bubbles almost overflowing. She had laid out a bunch of towels beside it, and she put all the candy and alcohol on the toilet lid.

“What are you doing?” I paused in the doorway.

She tested the water, then de-robed. Literally. Untying her sash, she held her arms behind her and stepped out of the robe. It fell to the floor behind her.

“Mom!”

I turned away.

“I don’t need to see you naked. No one needs to see their parent without clothes.”

She just laughed, and I heard the water sloshing around. “I got ready for a bath. How can I not take advantage of this? Do you know how many hotels have a claw-foot bathtub? None that I know of. This is so rare, and ooh, it feels so good. Do me a favor, sweetie.”

“Are you covered by the bubbles? Is it safe to look?”

She laughed. “I’ve got the same parts as you do, just a different size. Every female should be appreciated. If we all looked the same, there’d be no fun in life.”

“Seriously, Chrissy.”

This wasn’t a vacation, but back to my whole diatribe earlier, she thought it was. Oh, to hell with it. I snagged one of the wine bottles and sank down to the floor beside the tub.

I didn’t know the time anymore, but drinks made the most sense.

Chrissy smiled at me, her head just over the bubbles and wine in hand. “Cheers, honey.”

Yes. Cheers. We saluted each other.

She sipped her wine, next reaching for one of the candy bars. “Help yourself. I did a whole raid through everything.”

My stomach was metaphorically on the floor. “Mom, we have to talk about what happened.”

It was time.

“Oh.” She waved that off. “Not now.” Finishing her wine, she settled back, closing her eyes. “I know what happened was traumatizing, but you’re safe and…” Her voice slipped. “Do you really want to bring up all the bad stuff tonight? We’re in the lap of luxury here.”

“Mom.”

She opened her eyes again. Her mouth flattened. “Okay.” She nodded, sitting back up, some of the water splashing over the side of the tub and wetting where my feet were. “Okay. You’re right. You must have a million questions—”

Before she even finished, I started, “How?”

She choked a little before a knowing grin tugged at her mouth. “Bailey. If you don’t know how a baby is made by now, then—”

“Mom.” I wasn’t amused. I let her see that.

She laughed. “Okay. Enough teasing. Give me another wine thingy. They aren’t big enough.”

I grabbed one that was on the edge of the toilet and handed it over. Her hand closed over my wrist instead, and she tugged.

“Ah!”

I’d been kneeling to give her the wine, and from my position, my side hit the tub before she pulled the rest of me into the bath with her.

“Chrissy!”

She was laughing. The water was going everywhere.

“Come on. Let’s have a bath together. You and me. Mother and daughter.”

I ignored her comment. Some days she was Mom. Others, she was the child. I tended to switch too, except I was never supposed to be the parent. That was her job.

I shoved up. Half the water was on the floor now. “Who’s the child in our relationship now?”

“Oh, myself, for sure. That’s a no-brainer.”