She was his father’s widow. A technicality with a pulse. For Mark, she was a living museum exhibit labeled: Dad’s Second Wife. Handle with Awkwardness.
“Let me finish.” She leaned forward, just a little. Just enough to cross an invisible line. “I’m not your mother. I’m not trying to be. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice that you look at me differently than you used to. Or that I’ve started looking back.” stepmom makes the first move
“You’re serious,” he said.
“You’re not a monster.”
“I’m your stepson.”
“I know you’re not,” he said finally. His voice was lower than she remembered. Softer. “It’s just… weird.” She was his father’s widow
“I’ve had dreams about you saying that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And then I woke up feeling like a complete monster.” Handle with Awkwardness