Chapter 29True to his word, Wills took off a few days in the middle of July, and I brought him home to meet my mother.
“The house is nothing like yours,” I told him on the flight into St. Petersburg. I was in the window seat, and I couldn’t stop fidgeting. It was just a small three-bedroom house, and it only had one bathroom.
“Doesn’t matter, babe,” he replied. “It’s where you grew up. Drink your coffee.”
“I think I’d rather have a Scotch,” I muttered.
“It’s too early in the day.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Okay, no, it’s not, but you don’t want to show up on your mother’s doorstep drunk, do you?” He took my hand and wound his fingers in mine.
“No, but…”
He brought my hand to his mouth. “Then—”
“Humph!” A pair of disapproving eyes glared over the back of the seat ahead of mine. “Fags.”
“Ma
