Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lincoln
When Michaela went back upstairs, I found Mom in the kitchen. “What are you up to?”
A pile of stuff was on her cutting board. “Preparing a recipe in case Michaela wants to cook tonight or in the morning. Tomorrow is normally my day off.”
“Federal holidays, right.” I snagged a piece of carrot to munch. “I think she can order takeout, Mom.” Looking at the array of veggies, I figured it was her one-pan stir-fry.
“She can, but why make her have to? You two seem to be getting along.”
Keep it cool. “I guess. She’s nice and all.”
Keep it coolMom halved a red bell pepper before slicing it into strips. “I’d hope if you slept with a girl you found her more than just ‘nice’.”
I coughed, choking on carrot. “What?”
What?She rubbed my back. “Breathe, dear.”
“Mom—”
