How to Flirt With a Naked Werewolf - Molly Harper [105]
“You turned my room into a guest suite?” I was shocked to find I was a little hurt by the idea of complete strangers sleeping in my childhood nook. I’d practically expected my parents to enclose it as a shrine. As much as I griped about home, I’d always known I could go back if I needed to. And now it seemed that space was filled. With neo-hippies who craved an uncomfortable twin bed, sunrise yoga sessions, and organic carrot lasagna. I didn’t have a fallback position.
Automatically, I reached for the Tums, determined to forestall the worst of the heartburn. But the acidic ache in my throat never came. I took a deep breath and kept my tone pleasant. “Are the guests bothered by the fact that there aren’t any walls?”
“Oh, everyone has loved it; they say it’s very cozy. They feel just like part of the family.” Something was different in my mom’s voice. There was a temperance of mood, a restraint she’d never shown before. I realized that this was the most time my parents had ever spent telling me about what they’d been doing. Normally, they were either preaching at me or peppering me with questions about my life, my work, my dates, my recycling habits. And it occurred to me that I usually didn’t ask what they were up to. I was too focused on getting off the phone as soon as possible. The ache I’d expected came in the form of twisting guilt, genuine and deserved.
“It sounds great,” I told them. “I’m glad it’s working out for you. Can you send me some pictures?”
“Sure, sure.” Dad chuckled. “Or you can just look up our Web site.”
“You guys have a Web site?” I cried. “Who are you people, and what have you done with my parents?”
They laughed on the other end of the line. Dad cleared his throat, which was apparently a cue to Mom. She took a deep breath and said, “You know, Mo, sweetheart, we’ve been talking, and we realized that you were right.”
I waited for the punchline, but nothing came. “I’m sorry?”
Mom sighed. “Your moving away was the right thing to do. We did need a break from each other. And we did put a lot of pressure on you.”
I demanded, “Are you trying to be funny?”
“We were scared, honey,” she said. “We spent so much time fighting against becoming some boring old married couple. When you came along, it was like we’d created this miracle. And how could we be boring if we were tending to a miracle? So we were unwilling to let that feeling go.”
“What your mother’s trying to say is that we were scared to death that when you left, we were going to be staring at each other, wondering what the hell to say.” Dad snorted.
“And now we don’t have to worry. You’ve been gone for almost a year, do you realize that? A year. And we’re just fine—better than ever, really, because we can focus on each other,” Mom said. “We’ve rediscovered our passion, our primal urges—”
“Mom, you’re on the verge of ruining a beautiful moment with too much information,” I warned her.
“Sorry, baby.”
“So, what you’re saying is that I was right,” I said tentatively. “That when I said I needed my own space and my own life, I was right. And that I was right to leave and move all the way across the country for it.”
“Yes,” they chorused.
“And you were wrong,” I said. “Wrong, wrong, totally wrong.”
“Yes,” they chorused again.
“OK, seriously, are you two about to jump out from behind my couch and yell ‘Surprise’?”
Dad chuckled again. “We haven’t heard anything about the Great North Woods. What’s it like up there? Do you have friends? How’s the job?”
“It’s good.” I sighed. “I love my little house. I have a lot of friends, and I love my job. I’m making some changes with the owner, Evie, to the menu, and they’ve gone over really well. My chocolate chess squares are a big hit.”
I waited a beat for my mother to lecture me on pushing poisonous sugars to the masses, but she was simply listening.
“Are you happy, baby?” Mom asked.
Well, until recently, I’d been peachy-freaking-keen. I murmured a noncommittal “Mm-hmm.”
“That’s what’s important,” Dad told me. “That’s all we want for you. We can work out the