Hearts on Hold

by Charish Reid

  Victoria left the solace of his bed searching for her own clothes. “I left my overnight bag downstairs.”

  “Jesus.” He rifled through his chest of drawers and tossed her a black T-shirt. “Try that on.”

  She caught it with one hand and yanked it over her head. “Pants?”

  He found her an old pair of plaid pajama pants. “These?”

  “They’ll have to do.” Victoria tried to keep the panic from her voice as she grabbed her discarded panties from the floor. John found a similar outfit for himself and hoped they didn’t smell like sex. After a moment, they quickly appraised each other.

  “Twinsies,” he said.

  “Not now!” she snapped.

  “Right.”

  He took off downstairs, two steps at a time, skipping the last three. Sandra and Margaret peered inside. “Mom...Mom. Hi. What are you guys doing here?”

  Margaret Pierce narrowed her hazel eyes at her son and his heaving chest. Sandra Donovan raised a brow at the stirring behind John. Victoria stood off to the side hugging herself, probably trying to keep her braless breasts in check. Her overnight bag sat at John’s feet. “We brought food for you and Becca,” Sandra said slowly, pushing a foil-covered casserole dish at him.

  “But it looks like we’ve interrupted something,” Margaret intoned, a bowl of cookies in her hands.

  “Becca isn’t here,” John said, still standing in the doorway. His mind was a scramble of possible excuses to get his mothers to leave so he could get back to Victoria. But the curious expressions the women wore told him that nothing would stop them from finding out more. “She’s at school.”

  “We figured as much,” his mother said in a dry voice. “Are you going to let us in or what?”

  He girded his loins as he stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in, ladies. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

  The corner of Sandra’s lips quirked. “We could probably use it, honey.”

  As the women entered his home, John took their coats and hung them. Victoria stood at the bottom of the stairwell, still having not said a word. He took the cookies and casserole, gearing up to make introductions, but his mother quickly jumped in.

  “I’m Johnny’s mother, Margaret Pierce, and this is his stepmother, Sandy,” she said in a warm but perfunctory voice. “And you are...”

  Victoria quickly extended her hand. “Dr. Victoria Reese, ma’am.”

  Margaret smiled. “Margaret is fine, dear.”

  “Sorry,” she said while giving a firm shake. “Margaret.”

  “A doctor,” Sandra murmured. “Where’d you find yourself a doctor, kiddo?”

  He tried to dismiss Sandra’s innocent comment as he rubbed the back of his neck, but it still stung a little. Rather than focusing on his feelings, he glanced at the one person who would feel most out of place. Victoria’s mask had reappeared in an instant. John couldn’t blame her one bit. No one wants to visit with two mothers the morning after the debauchery they got up to. Especially the debauchery he’d been hoping to get up to just a few moments ago. “Why don’t you guys just take a seat in the living room while Victoria and I whip up some coffee,” he suggested, guiding Victoria away from the impending interrogation. John steered the free food and his lover to the kitchen before anyone could object.

  With their backs to the women, Johnny shoved the food in the refrigerator while Victoria busied herself with his coffeemaker. Her hands shook as she rinsed out the glass pot. “Take a breath, baby,” Johnny whispered.

  “This is not in the plan,” she said under her breath. She splashed the water into the sink before filling it up. “Where do you keep the coffee?”

  “The cabinet to your right.” He moved around her to retrieve several mugs and spoons. “They’re not going to pounce on you.”

  “I’ve been having sex with their boy.” Victoria found the coffee. “Filters?”

  He reached around her and pulled the filters from a higher shelf. “They don’t know that.”

  “Do these look like my pajamas?” she asked gesturing to the oversized shirt that hung off her body. “I might as well be dressed like Tom Cruise in Risky Business.”

  John chuckled at the thought.

  “It’s not funny,” she hissed. Victoria shoveled spoonful after spoonful of coffee grounds into the machine, until John steadied her hands.

  “That’s a bit too much,” he said, taking the spoon from her.

  “I don’t make coffee.”

  “Then why are you making coffee?”

  “Because I don’t know what else to do,” she said. “Do you have any light carpentry you need me to work on while they’re here?”

  “Kiddo, you have creamer, right?” Sandra called from the living room.

  John emptied half of the filter back into the canister. “Yep,” he said. “You want sugar?”

  “If you got it.”

  “What’s our plan?” Victoria asked, gazing at him with frantic eyes. “We need to go back in there with a plan.”

  He met her pleading stare with a furrowed brow. “There is no plan, honey.”

  “G.D. it.”

  “What was that?”

  “Goddammit,” she said in a low voice.

  Once he got the coffee brewing, John edged closer to her and kept his head low. “All you need to do is act normal and pleasant, my love. Let me handle the rest.”

  Her head snapped up. “What did you call me?”

  John pursed his lips. Right. “I didn’t mean...”

  “Honey, bring me one of those cookies while you’re at it,” Margaret called.

  “Will do,” he shouted.

  “I can’t do this right now,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “Don’t panic,” he whispered, glancing at the coffee pot. It was only a third of the way full. “I didn’t mean to call you that, I just—It slipped. Like a pet name.”

  Victoria didn’t reply. Instead, she went through his cabinets for a plate and set it on the counter before moving around him to the refrigerator. She dug through the bowl of cookies and set two fistfuls on the plate. She tore off several paper towels and began folding them into neat squares. John was losing her to the spiral in her own head.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “For now, you don’t have to worry about my moms. They’re not judgmental at all. They love liberated professional women.”

  “Stop talking, John,” she said, folding her last napkin. “It’s making me more nervous.”

  He stopped talking. When the coffee pot was halfway full, he pulled it out and filled two mugs before shoving it back under the drip.

  “I’ll carry the cookies and cream if you get the coffee,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  She caught him staring at her. “I’m really sorry, John, but I’m going to flounder in there. I just want you to know before it happens. I’m not good with my own mother and I would never be caught in this situation with her.”

  “But you have nothing to worry about.” He tried to make her believe his words, but her expression remained stricken with anxiety. There wasn’t anything left to do but to push her into the lion’s den and hope his mothers could behave themselves until they left. Once alone, John would probably need to ease her anxiety again. He couldn’t believe he called her my love. In the quest to comfort her, the words had actually slipped from his lips. John had to convince her that he didn’t mean it. After he convinced himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Victoria didn’t have time to dissect John’s meaning when he’d called her “my love.” Instead, she carefully wandered back to the living room where John’s two mothers sat. Both of them chatted comfortably on the couch, while Victoria gripped a plate of Halloween cookies in one hand, a small pitcher of cream in the other. She nearly dropped both
when she saw what was neatly stacked on the coffee table ahead of them. Victoria stopped short in front of John, who carried hot coffee behind her.

  One pile was her folded flannel shirt and bra.

  The other pile was John’s flannel and undershirt.

  Dang it.

  Silently, she set the plate of cookies beside the clothes, taking care not to touch them. Victoria didn’t want to claim ownership of the lacy black bra that was folded at the middle, it’s straps gently placed in the hollow of the cups. She also took care to not look at the women as she made her way to the easy chair at their side.

  “Thank you, dear,” Sandra said with a gentle smile.

  John spotted the clothes immediately after she had and calmly placed their coffee cups beside the cookies. He shot both of the women a piercing glare before joining Victoria at the easy chair. As he lowered himself to perch on one plush chair arm, he cleared his throat. “No need to fold my laundry anymore, Mom.”

  Victoria kept her eyes in her lap.

  The women’s laughter tinkled with good humor. “Oh, Johnny, go ahead and wipe the scowl off your face,” Margaret chided. “We know very well what the morning after looks like.”

  “Mother.”

  “Victoria,” Sandra interrupted. “What do you do for a living?”

  She had no choice but to participate in this conversation while her discarded clothes just sat there taunting her. Victoria looked up and tried to smile. “I teach at Pembroke University, in their English department.”

  “Impressive,” the women said in unison. They both went for their coffee at the same time and settled against the couch.

  “Thank you,” she breathed.

  “Victoria and I are working on an internship together,” John said. “We’re hoping it will be a successful partnership between the library and university.”

  “Is that a fact?” Margaret asked in a sardonic tone that matched her son’s. “It looks like a pretty good partnership already.”

  Victoria shifted in her seat. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few days,” she admitted. As she addressed the women, she watched her tone and kept their relationship as vague as possible. Only last night had Victoria declared how she wanted to drop her mask and get real with John. In the cold light of morning, in front of his mothers, she wondered if she may have spoken too soon.

  Margaret’s face broke into a grin. “Oh, you don’t have to explain anything to us, dear. I just like teasing Johnny to get a rise out of him.”

  Victoria exhaled as John slid an arm around her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “This is my mom’s idea of humor,” he said with a wry grin.

  In truth, Victoria had expected a couple of women who mirrored her mother’s excessive prudishness. Instead, they were easygoing and jovial to their boy. She saw the resemblance between Sandra and the daughter in John’s office photo. They shared the same large soulful brown eyes which seemed to be filled with laughter. Despite the woman’s age, not very many lines creased her mahogany face. Sandra kept her hair short, pressed and curled, like most black women would at her age. Victoria imagined her making weekly visits at her local beauty parlor. John’s mother, Margaret, took a relaxed approach to her appearance, wearing an oversized gray sweater and flowing pants. John must have taken after his father because the woman’s fiery red hair and tawny eyes were a far cry from her Viking son’s looks. Her smile was playful as she looked from Victoria to John.

  Regardless of how charming both the women were, Victoria had not exaggerated when she said she’d never find herself in this situation with her own mother. Katherine Reese could not stand joking, public displays of affection, or ladies behaving like anything other than ladies. Victoria’s face heated as her mind burned with the memory of what she and John had done on the couch. Sandra sat there, politely sipping her coffee in the same spot where she’d dry-humped her stepson. Jesus.

  “Victoria,” Sandra said, leaning forward taking the black bra by the straps. To Victoria’s horror, the woman caressed the satin fabric with her thumbs. “Where did you find this? Maggie and I were going to do some shopping today and I had a mind to pick up some new brassieres.”

  Victoria choked on her own spit as she watched Sandra fondle her underthings.

  “Oh dear, is she okay?” Margaret asked sitting up.

  “Fine,” she rasped through the coughing. “I got it at Victoria’s Secret.”

  Admitting that was perhaps the single most embarrassing thing she ever done in her life. Beside her, John’s body shook with quiet laughter. “Of course,” he said in a low voice.

  Margaret peered closely at the garment. “Trish, down at the church, said that Victoria’s Secret doesn’t go over double-D. Sandy, you’re at least a triple-D, aren’t you?”

  Victoria wanted to cover her eyes when Sandra held the bra by the straps. “I haven’t been measured in a few years. This one looks like a C cup.” She looked from the bra to Victoria’s chest as if to confirm her breast size.

  “Well, we need to go to Dillard’s first to get you measured,” Margaret said. “Shelly still works in the afternoons, doesn’t she?”

  “Once you get to be our age, you’re just looking for something that fits whatever gravity pulled down,” Sandra continued, nudging her friend in the ribs. “But it would be nice to treat myself to something fancier.”

  “The girls don’t know how good they’ve got it,” Margaret said as she set down her coffee. She too, took up the bra and marveled over its craftsmanship. “I like the little lacy bits here. It doesn’t scratch you, honey?” she asked Victoria.

  She pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head. “Mm-mm.”

  “Well that’s good,” Margaret said, folding the underwear and placing it back on the coffee table. “I can’t stand the itchiness. I’ve gone and just cut all of the tags out of my shirts these days.”

  “How will you know how to wash your clothes?” John asked with a chuckle.

  His mother dismissed him with a tut and a wave of her hand. “When you’ve been washing clothes as long as I have, you just know. I don’t need a tag telling me what temperature to use.”

  Victoria didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or both. She simply sat there, hugged next to John’s hip waiting for all of it to be over.

  “So Johnny,” Sandra said. “I’ve heard my grandbaby is fighting?”

  John went stiff. “Not exactly.”

  “Jessi gave me the lowdown,” Sandra said, returning to her coffee. “I’m assuming you’ve taken care of things?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” John said in a grave tone. “Jess and I talked to her and she knows what she did was wrong.”

  “Well did the girl deserve a good pop in the mouth?” Margaret asked innocently.

  Victoria’s eyes widened, not expecting something so brash coming from someone’s grandmother. It turned out that Becca had a tribe standing behind her, offering more support than she remembered receiving from her own mother.

  “Mom, no one got popped in the mouth.”

  Margaret frowned. “Everyone knows that’s the best way to stop a bully.”

  Sandra nodded. “I’m inclined to agree with your mother: Don’t start none; won’t be none.”

  The two ladies clinked ceramic mugs with their shared sentiment, causing Victoria to laugh outright. These two geriatric gals were charming indeed. “I’m sorry,” she said with her hand over her mouth.

  “And it’s obvious that the good doctor also agrees,” Sandra said, tipping her mug towards her.

  “Victoria was in a fist fight when she was Becca’s age,” John said with a laugh.

  Her gaze flew to his sparkling green eyes. “John.”

  “What? You were.”

  “Ladies, I don’t want you to think—”

  Margaret held up a hand. “You need to stop there, young lad
y. You’re not here to prove a damn thing to two old biddies like us. Relax yourself and poke a little fun.”

  “She’s right, you know?” Sandra said, biting into a Halloween cookie. “You’ve already impressed us by putting up with our shenanigans. Lord knows John’s used to it.”

  Victoria forced herself to relax. After all, they were giving her permission to. She took another deep breath and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Now that we’ve established that Becca runs these streets,” Sandra said with a smile. “Are you two dating? Because we haven’t seen John with a woman in at least two years. That, or he’s not bringing them around us anymore.”

  She glanced at John who looked mildly embarrassed. “I...uh, I don’t know if we’re dating? I mean, we’re supposed to be working on this project and I hadn’t really... I guess what I’m trying to say is—”

  John stopped her. “Victoria and I have been seeing each other for about a week. I would have introduced her to you on the first date, but I thought that might be rushing things.”

  His tone made his mother roll her eyes. “Okay, I can see we’re being intrusive.”

  “Now that she’s met you,” he continued. “I should probably propose to her tomorrow? Maybe set the wedding for a week from now?”

  Sandra chuckled into her coffee mug. “See what I mean?” she asked Victoria. “We joke and meddle in young people’s lives.”

  Victoria relaxed her shoulders again. She was thankful that John’s smart mouth had saved her from rambling about the nature of their relationship. She was also thankful that they were so understanding and lighthearted about the situation. “Sometimes you have to laugh,” she murmured.

  “Ladies, was there a purpose to your visit today?” John asked, swiftly changing the subject.

  “We wanted to make sure that Becca wasn’t starving,” Margaret said. “And we wanted to offer up our babysitting services. I heard that Chris is watching her while you are at work.”

  “I’m not turning down free childcare services,” John said. “But with her after-school detention all week, you’d have to pick her up at 4 p.m.”