Page 43 of Sweet Distraction

“I know, but you know how important education is to me. How I set goals and need to accomplish them, and because of cost and time, this fell to the wayside. Now it seems I have a bit more of both than I’m used to, so I figured maybe I’ll look into it.”

“Honey, you know we wish we could help more.”

“You’re still paying off loans from my undergrad. You are not helping me with this.”

“It’s still hard as a parent to not be able to give you more.”

I smile. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever asked for. I’m fine. I just need to do this for myself.”

“I understand.” She tsks like she tends to do when she’s going to change subjects. “So the Napa trip with Lily is off, I take it?”

“More postponed than off. We’ll get there. It’s on my list of places to see.”

“Sometimes I marvel at how you came from me.” She laughs. “So driven and self-sufficient. So focused on making things better for everyone else. I’m forever proud of you, Willow.”

Her words warm me.

We talk about nothing for a few minutes. My dad’s retirement project—refinishing the shed. My sister’s new boyfriend who apparently thinks quinoa is a type of pasta. And then her voice softens again.

“I’m glad you called,” she says.

“Me too.”

“I was worried after the layoffs. I know how much you loved your job and your kids and their families.”

“I still do. I miss them. I feel like I let them down, but in the same token, I’m needed here.”

“You sound . . . different. Content.”

Maybe because I’m right where I’m supposed to be. Making a difference for someone who needs it most. For now, at least.

“I am. Things are good for me.”

“No mother will ever complain about hearing that.” I can hear her smile in her voice. “I’ll call you later this week, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

I end the call, set the phone on the cushion beside me, and let the silence wrap around me. My thoughts dizzy about the past and swirl regarding the future, but I keep coming back to the simple fact of how damn lucky I am. Poppy will never get to have that type of phone call with her mom. She’ll never hear the pride and the praise in her voice—or rather, see it on her face being directed at her.

But I can and have and do so regularly. And I’ll never take that for granted.

“Enjoying the sun?”

I jump at the sound of Rocket’s voice. When I turn, he’s standing on the far side of the couch. Barefoot. Hair tousled. A sexy smile tilting up one corner of his mouth.

“We have to stop meeting like this. My heart isn’t going to handle living here,” I tease.

His grin widens as he steps forward. “The door was open. I figured you didn’t mind the company.”

“It’s your house. You don’t need to apologize for anything.” I shift to collect my laptop and phone and—

“No. You’re fine.” He digs his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocks on his heels. “I looked out the window and . . . you looked happy is all.”

“I am, I guess.”

“You guess?” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I mean. I just talked to my mom, and she always makes me feel good about everything.”