“Always,” she said. “It was fun.”

“Sneaking into a system and changing commands, fun?” I grinned, covering my chest. “You’re a girl after my own heart.”

Heat rushed her cheeks as she headed toward the swinging door that led to the kitchen. “Isn’t it already mine?”

My lips popped open, the breath stalling in my lungs.

Hell yeah it is.

I nodded, dropping my hands. “You know it is.”

“Good,” she said, biting down on her smile. She spun around, hurrying behind the counter, then slipped a few brownies into a paper bag and handed them to me. “Go see Tessa,” she said. “Sounds like she could use her brother and another brownie session.”

“You always have the best ideas.”

“It’s a curse,” she said, and I did a double take at the worry cracking her flirty gaze.

“See you tomorrow, Pixie,” I said as she disappeared through the kitchen door.

I left in as big a hurry as I’d come. Suddenly wondering if I’d been so wrapped up in protecting Tessa that I’d neglected her when she needed me. Concentrating my time on Amber, the TOC, and doing every little thing Tanner commanded wasn’t helping me be present, either.

Balance.

I needed to find it, and fast. Because things were already slipping through the cracks.

But being with Amber?

She was worth every single amount of effort it took to rearrange my life, because it just didn’t make sense without her at the heart of it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Amber

“Mom?” I called from my room, shutting my laptop.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” She pranced into my room, a basket of laundry on her hip.

I took the basket, sat it on my bed, and started folding.

She arched a brow at me. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing!” I laughed, folding a T-shirt. “Can’t a girl fold laundry with her mom?”

“Of course she can, but my sweet, wonderful, genius teenage daughter doesn’t do it often.”

“Okay, fine,” I said, reaching for some Marvel leggings and rolling them up. “I was wondering…”

“Yes?” She kept her eyes on her stack of clothes, patient as always.

“What are your thoughts on…cheating? Like, if one person is in love with the other but they’re married. But the married person is way older and still sees the other person?”

Mom paused her folding, her eyes finally finding mine. “You writing a story?”

“Not exactly…” I hated—absolutely hated—lying to Mom. I couldn’t tell her, but she was my best source of knowledge for the blog. I wished I had all the answers myself, but there was no one I trusted more with information so important. Which gave me the confidence to try to help others who weren’t as fortunate as me to have the best mom ever.