Page 50 of The Frog Prince

And I smile, a funny, crooked smile because gay or straight, Josh has been nicer to me than anyone else I’ve met since I’ve moved to the city. “Thanks.” My smile grows. “I’ll go talk to Tessa.”

“You better do it fast. Olivia will be back soon.”

I can see Tessa through her open door. She’s sitting cross-legged in her chair, staring intently at her computer screen.

“What do you want?” Tessa asks brusquely without glancing up from the computer.

She’s uncomfortable. I realize she hadn’t meant to say anything about her mom and is angry that she did.

Asking her to join me and my mom and Josh for dinner is nothing short of stupid and insensitive. I shouldn’t do it.

“Well?” Tessa sighs with exaggerated patience, giving the edge of her desk a push, rolling her chair backward.

Don’t be stupid, don’t he stupid, don’t be stupid—

“Would you like to join my mom and me for dinner?” I ask brightly, eyebrows lifted as if to conveyFun! Excitement! Good Times for All!

“Jesus, Mary, and—”

“My mom thinks I have friends,” I say fast, cutting her short, mortified that I’m giving her the true version of events, but unable to lie. “She’s going to a lot of effort to make dinner reservations for tonight, and…” I exhale, take a brittle breath. “I already feel like a schmuck for sending her away without the office tour. And now if I show up at her meet-Holly’s-friends party without any friends, she’ll think I’m mad at her, or embarrassed.”

“Which you are.”

Damn, Tessa’s tough. “Not mad.” I hesitate delicately. “Well, maybe mad. And maybe embarrassed.”

“She’s yourmom.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“What’s to be embarrassed about?”

“It’s not one thing; it’s little things, lots of little things.”

“Name one.”

I stay silent. I don’t want to do this. In high school it was cool to put your parents down, but I don’t like criticizing my mom. At least not out loud.

“Come on.” Tessa pushes for a reason.

Fine. If she wants a reason, she can have one. She can have ten. “My mom doesn’t remember anything I tell her. Like what I do. Today she said she didn’t know I was in PR, or that I’d handled events, and yet I invited her to a half-dozen different things when I worked in Fresno.”

“What else?”

“She’s always compared me to Ashlee, my younger sister, who starred on her volleyball team, never missed a prom, was crowned homecoming queen as well as Miss Congeniality in the local Miss America pageant.”

“Wow.” Tessa’s impressed. “Quite a girl.”

“Yes, she is. And that’s how my mom wants me to be, but I’m not extroverted like that. I’m not a social butterfly. I don’t even want to be a social butterfly.”

“Then don’t be. Be yourself,” Tessa answers, unfolding her legs, dropping her feet on the floor so the heels of her boots thump,boom-boom. “God, I could use a smoke.” She opens up her desk drawer, slams it shut, and then opens it again, fishes out some orange Tic Tacs, and then throws the Tic Tacs back into her drawer. “What time’s dinner?”

“Six.”

Tessa’s dark red eyebrows arch. “Early.”

“She’s eager.”

Tessa laughs, a surprisingly deep belly laugh. She may have an Irish temper, but she’s got the Irish humor as well. “So where are we going?”

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