Page 6 of No Summer Hotter than You

“That’s what I thought too until I grabbed flowers that apparently remind everyone of funerals and death.”

“True, you fucked up without even trying.” She let out a small snicker. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But I might not be home until seven p.m. Is that all right with you?”

I pursed my lips. “You’re only showing two homes later. It shouldn’t take you four hours.”

She let out a long sigh. “I have to stop by my parents’ house. My mom wants me to pick up the extra veggies and watermelons she has in her garden. You know how my mom can be at times when I go back home. Sometimes she’s chatty, but other times she can be vicious. There’s no in between.”

Shoua and me have been close friends since high school, and I’ve never known her and her mom to have the best relationship. But they were cordial most of the time. They often didn’t see eye to eye on things and that left their relationship sour.

“Why don’t I go with you? Your mom loves me, so I’m sure me being there would either tamper the bad mood she’s in or brighten her up,” I offered.

She snorted, but I could sense her hesitation. All before saying, “You sure?” in an achingly soft voice.

I hated it when she spoke like that. It often meant she was the most raw and vulnerable, which she usually was when it came to her mom and family.

Without hesitation, I answered, “Of course. I’ll always come running even if you don’t need me.”

CHAPTER 3

shoua

How in the world was it only a Tuesday night? The week was drawing out much slower than I anticipated despite all the home showings and paperwork I’ve been buried under. This made me more irritated than usual since all I wanted was to head to bed and not have to wake up until ten in the morning.

I couldn’t wait until summer ended so I could finally catch a break.

I tried not to blow a long, exasperated sigh as my longtime friend, Alicia Alvarez, explained how horrible her cousin’s fiancé was. From the sound of it, he was a douchebag, but she refused to call off the wedding because he had money.

The wedding was this upcoming week in the Caribbean, and Alicia, her boyfriend, and family were going to fly out on Thursday, which was why we were meeting up on a random Tuesday evening. Our other friend, Jackie Mori, sat across from me as she took in the animated anecdotes Alicia was telling like a sponge with wide eyes. All the while I sat there, nodding along.

“Enough of me ranting on about my stupid cousin and her asshole fiancé,” she declared. “What’s new with you, Shoua?”

I gave them a small smile after a sip of wine, exhausted. “I saw my mom yesterday. She wanted me to stop by to get some things from her garden.”

“Was it bad?” Jackie frowned.

“Actually, it went really well,” I answered, slowly. “Because Anthony was there. He offered to go with me. So, the most backhanded comment she said was just how much I’ve gained weight since I saw her two weeks ago.”

Jackie and Alicia looked at me with sad eyes as I simply shrugged. To an outsider, it sounded a little much for my mom to constantly berate my body, size, and weight. I’m midsized, but she behaved as if I was morbidly obese and bedridden at times. She’s been like this my whole life, so the way she behaved yesterday was nothing new.

The older I got, the more I realized my mom was just incredibly insecure about her own body and sense of self. So, in turn, she ridiculed me—who she believed was the reflection of her mistakes and faults.

She also had a problem with control, especially when it came to my brothers and me. She saw us as an extension of herself and tried to dictate our lives in ways I never let her. She insisted I become a nurse in college, but I refused and got a management degree instead. She insisted I date the “good” Hmong boys she sent my way. I did, but I always ended up dumping them.

I would never tell Anthony this, but my mom had been insisting I marry him ever since we bought our duplex together. He was her ideal bachelor for me because he was tall, handsome, and charming. But, most of all, she believed he was also filthy rich. I only mentioned this in passing when it happened, but I think this belief had something to do with how Anthony pulled out enough cold, hard cash to pay for a quarter of our duplex as a down payment.

He was being flashy then, but he had saved up after years of hard work and felt he earned the right to. It was also money I was still paying him back for because he helped us get a great deal on the loan. Although Anthony made an incredibly comfortable salary with the successful multimillion dollar company he and his dad ran, he was far from the millionaire my mom thought he was.

What she didn’t understand was this: Even if I did marry him, that wasn’t my money nor would any of it equate to being her money. This was something I had been too embarrassed to even tell anyone. Let alone Anthony himself and my friends. My mom had an unreasonable mindset like that.

“That’s sweet of Anthony to do that,” Alicia said.

I nodded. “It was. I’m pretty sure we would’ve ended up arguing if he didn’t. She looked crabby last night, but the moment she saw him, she was ecstatic.”

“Leave it up to one of the Hughes twins to do that,” Jackie said with a small laugh.

“Hear, hear,” Alicia chimed.

I smiled at their comments. “How about you, Jackie? How are you doing on those dating apps these days?”

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