He had no earthly idea how to approach this latest dilemma as he wrapped a towel around his waist and reached for his phone to text her.

Running a little late. Will be there soon.

No worries, she replied. I’m running late, too.

No worries, he thought. That was an apt description of their relationship. It was easy and peaceful and calming and somewhat effortless. All of those things were exactly what he needed when he had so much else to contend with. Since the heat had finally broken, he pulled on faded jeans and a cotton button-down shirt that could use some time with an iron. Hopefully, Jenny wouldn’t care that he hadn’t taken the time to iron his shirt for her. He could always say he was in too big of a rush to get to her to bother ironing, which wasn’t far from the truth.

Alex combed his hair, brushed his teeth and splashed on a bit of cologne. Then he went out to the living room to spend a few minutes with his mother before he left.

When she looked him over from top to bottom, he could tell she was in one of her more lucid periods. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.”

“You should’ve ironed your shirt.” Marion Martinez had made sure both of her boys could do their own laundry and knew how to handle an iron before they left her house. She’d tried and failed to impart some basic kitchen skills, however.

“I know. I’m already running late, though.”

“That’s no excuse to go out looking rumpled.” She surprised him when she stood. “Take it off. I’ll do it for you.”

“Oh,” he said, stunned by the offer as much as the lucidity. “You don’t have to.”

She looked at him with the eyes of the mother he used to know. “Please let me.”

Overwhelmed by her request, Alex unbuttoned the shirt and took it off, following her to the laundry room off the kitchen to keep an eye on her while she operated the iron. But he needn’t have bothered. She ironed the shirt with the kind of skill that came from a lifetime of doing such things for the men she loved. When she was finished, she held it for him while he slid his arms into the cooling sleeves.

He turned to face her and watched in stunned amazement as she buttoned it and then patted his chest.

“Much better.”

“Yes, it is. Thanks, Mom.”

“My pleasure.”

He could see that doing something for him had indeed brought her pleasure.

“Are you seeing that nice girl who was here the other day? I can’t recall her name.”

Alex saw to putting the iron away and stashing the ironing board. “Yes, I’m seeing Jenny.”

“I like her.”

“So do I.”

“Bring her to see me again soon, will you?”