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Summary
Agatha stopped mid sentence, looking between Nicky and Rio in confusion. “Nicky, how do you know Rio?”
Nicky, completely unaware of any extra awkwardness, answered. “She’s my birth-mother.”
Agatha’s eyes widened as she looked between them again, and Rio knew what she was seeing— the same face shape, the same nose and cheeks and smile, the same eyes. Rio didn’t need a DNA test or paperwork to prove what she could easily see with her own eyes, and she could tell that Agatha didn’t either.
“Hi,” Rio said finally, though the greeting felt extremely inadequate as soon as it left her lips. But there wasn’t exactly a guidebook to this whole awkward situation.
What exactly do you say when the adoptive mother of your biological son is also the woman you fucked last Friday?