Those hazel eyes, the same ones she’d given me, stared back at me. “He’d be a fool not to like you.” My shoulders slumped. “You’re my mom. You’re biased.” “You’re right. I am. But I’ve seen him looking at you when I pick you up from school. He likes you back.” Hope flared to life somewhere deep. “Really?” She grinned. “Really. Although I’m not sure how I feel about that. Thirteen is young for a boyfriend.” “So many girls in my class have them,” I protested.
