Page 87 of It's Always Us

My mom’s brow creases as her eyebrows tip inward. “You said you’re not single. Are you and Seth . . . ”

The picture released to the whole world, or at least Mark’s five million followers, fills my mind again. I’m done with this.

“Actually, I’m married.” I let it hang, but not for long. “I married my high school boyfriend, who I’ve never been able to get over, and not only that, I’m pregnant . . . with twins.”

My mom’s mouth falls open. Bob chokes on a macaroni noodle and coughs, so I know he’s getting air, while Brad makes some sort of snorting noise. I offer him a shrug because what else do I do when he looks highly amused by my verbal vomit?

Mom wipes her mouth with her napkin. “You’re married and . . . pregnant?”

“Yes.”

My mom studies me like she thinks I might be joking as her fork stabs around her plate, not catching anything. “Where is your . . . husband? Do we get to meet him?”

We?“He’s out of town. He has an important meeting.”

Her fork finds the pasta, and she frantically shuffles it around. “A meeting. And what does he do?”

I could throw it in her face and tell her that Mark is one of the highest-paid professionals in the league, but I decide it’s not worth it. “He . . . works seasonally . . . travels a lot,” I stutter out. Based on her instant dismay and stiffened posture, I have second thoughts about withholding information.

“Seriously, Alex. Does he have a name?” Her head drops with disapproving dread as she finally sets her dinner weapon down.

Whatever. I’m done with this. She’ll find out sometime anyway. “Yes. Mark Sandberg.”

Tiny particles of pasta, soup, and tea spray the table from the two opposing ends. I want to grin. Ireallydo, but I keep that crap under wraps, just waiting to see what’s next.

As Bob and Brad wipe their mouths, my mom’s face moves into a frown, studying them. “He travels a lot. Huh?”

I could say something, but why? Here it comes, from the woman who has had such great relationship success that started with my dad giving her duces when he found out she was pregnant.

“And twins.” Her voice rises an octave as Bob and Brad keep their heads down, eyes on plates, clearing their throats and sipping tea, trying to recover. “Does he know?”

I’m happy to revert back to my usual comfortable minimal word usage. “Yep.”

“And let me guess, he’ll be there for you through the whole thing. He loves you and wants to take care of you.”Here it comes. “But yet, he’s not here.”

I’m not going to lie. That last little jab is a hit to a purpling bruise. I put my hands in my sweatshirt pockets and rest them against my stomach. “Not every man is a liar,” I say, knowing Grandpa, my guys at the garage, and Mark are living proof.

Both Bob and Brad perk up at my declaration.

“That’s true,” Bob says, sitting up tall in his chair, almost as if he’s . . . defending me.

My mom acts like she was bitten but recovers at lightning speed. “Sure. That’s true, but Alex is . . . naive.” It’s like I’m not even here.

My mom lets out some kind of nervous laugh and stands, flitting around the kitchen like a gnat.

When I find the energy to deal with the awkwardness, Bob studies me intently. Brad looks . . . confused, maybe.

Bob’s surprisingly kind eyes meet mine. “You’ve known Mark Sandberg since high school?”

I can’t help but smile at his astonishment.

Brad leans closer, whispering, “Like Mark Sandberg the . . . ”

I nod.

“Wow. Congratulations,” Brad says.

My phone buzzes again.

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