Page 2 of David

I stick my dessert spoon into the cup and bring more whipped cream to my mouth.

Her eyes don’t wander away from my face. Even without looking at her, I know what she thinks.

“I’m not jealous of her,” I say, propping my phone against a book on the table.

Our eyes connect.

“Yes, you are,” my mother says.

“No, I’m not,” I retort, shaking my head and laughing dismissively. “I don’t want her life. And as hot and accomplished as her man is, I’d never hook up with someone like him.”

She flicks her hand in disappointment and collects something off the table.

“Good to know you think he’s hot.”

She brings a cookie to her mouth and sinks her teeth into the crumbling texture.

My mouth waters since I know how good her cookies are.

“Everybody knows Ed Preston is hot,” I toss back at her.

“Yeah, sure.”

Chewing slowly on her cookie, she locks my eyes.

“Seriously…” she murmurs. “You can’t avoid to go to her wedding without revealing how jealous, petty, and frankly, a bit nuts you are.”

I laugh as if it’s a good joke.

“It’s not funny,” she says swiftly. “You can’t lie to her. You can’t say you’re not in town since she knows you're here. You don’t have a good explanation for not showing up, and she’ll feel hurt if you do that.”

“I am not jealous of her,” I say, punctuating every word with a tilt of my head. “It’s just that there’s nothing for me to do at her wedding.”

“You don’t have to do anything at her wedding,” she says, irritation woven in her voice. “All you need to do is eat and drink like everybody else. And maybe dance. What’s so hard about this? I don’t get it. Plus, you know lots of people in her circle. You know Rain, Dahlia, and Eve. Why wouldn’t you want to go?”

She ponders for a moment.

“Is it because Chloe is not here?” she asks.

I huff at her ridiculous suggestion.

“No, of course not.”

“Then why? I’ll be there too,” she says.

“You’re my mother,” I reply, exasperated.

“Whatever.”

With a curt gesture, she gives up on arguing with me about Thea’s wedding and rises from her seat before moving to the sink, an empty plate in her hand.

The view of the trees outside the window grabs my attention while the water runs in the background.

The leaves move slowly in the wind.

“Is it about the money?”

Her voice tears into the silence as she probably pats her hands dry with a kitchen towel out of my line of sight.

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