He heard her talking to someone in the courtyard and paused at the mouth of the hallway.

His mother was laughing with an equally animated Top. The usually taciturn guy wore a smile and seemed a lot more at ease than he normally was. And Cynthia chatted as if she and Top were best friends, her smile warm, her tone a little...flirty?

No, no. Definitely not. When he took a step out from the stairwell toward them, Top turned, saw him, and assumed his usual mien. That of serial killer meets prison warden.

“Mom, where have you been?” Xavier gave her a hug and a kiss. “Hey, Top. What’s up?”

“Just talking to your mom.” He glanced from Cynthia to Xavier and shook his head. “Still hard to believe you have grown kids, Cynthia. Unless you had them when you were twelve.”

Xavier’s mom blushed. “Oh you.”

Top gave her a warm smile, glared at Xavier for no reason whatsoever, then waved. “Gotta get back to work. Nice meeting you.”

“You too. Are you sure you don’t want to join us for brunch upstairs?”

Top quickly walked away and shot over his shoulder, “Sorry, too much to do today.”

Conscious they waited until Top had departed out of sight, Xavier frowned at the bag his mother carried. “Are these groceries? I told you I was making you brunch today.”

“I just brought some fruit for fruit salad.” She continued to look at where Top had disappeared. “What a nice man.”

“Top? Nice?”

She frowned at him. “He was extremely polite. I met him on the street while parking, and he was kind enough to let me in.”

“Really? Because he always makes us use our keycards or the keypad to enter. And he knows we live here.”

“I told him I was coming up to see you, and we got to talking. Did you know Max used to live in Oregon? Right near where your father and I spent a few years in the central part of the state.”

“Small world.” Max? He hadn’t told Cynthia to call him Top? “But you’re late. You’re never late.”

She flushed as they went to the elevator he normally avoided, sticking to a routine of using the stairs all the time. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time when we were talking. And I couldn’t get to my phone buried in my purse.”

“What is it you always like to tell me? Excuses are like assholes—everyone has them.”

“Oh stop it. I’m a little late. Get over it.” Her lips quirked. “But that is a winning line, isn’t it?”

He chuckled. “Totally. I’m telling Auggie you were late.”

“Please don’t. That girl loves having something to hold over my head.” She shot him a sly glance. “But as I understand it, you’ve been keeping secrets, Xavier. You said Justine was just a friend. I hear she’s more than that.”

He groaned. They reached his floor and finally entered the apartment. “Auggie doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I already told you. Justine’s a very nice woman, and we get along. That’s it.” That’s all there should be between them, at least. Friendship.