Page 86 of It's Always Us

Mark would have turned this little dinner party into a comedy hour, but all I can do is try not to lose my ever-loving mind. I have to put a stop to this, whatever it is, so I can go home and not do this again. Who knows? Maybe next time, she’d invite the preacher. We’d be one big, happy family.

Brad sits as my mom offers him a drink. I sit reluctantly.

“Alex was telling me she restored an old F-150,” Bob says, as if he and I were actually conversing.

“Really,” Brad says, sipping his iced tea. “What year?”

“77,” I say, not adding detail.

“Sweet. So, that’s yours out on the curb?”

“All right, who’s ready to eat?” my mom cuts in. “It’s tomato soup and mac and cheese. Alex’s favorite.”

I don’t tell her it hasn’t been my favorite since I was ten, because at this point, who cares? She places the food in front of me while Bob and Brad discuss something happening on a job site. My mom joins in as I stir my soup and pick at the mac and cheese with my fork.

“Alex, Brad said he would love to come by the shop sometime and see what you’re working on.”

I drag my eyes to hers, shining brightly with hope and possibility. I want to squash it like a bug.She has GOT to be kidding me.

Brad clears his throat. “I’m sure she’s got plenty keeping her busy and doesn’t need spectators.”

I glance at him, appreciative of his perceptiveness.

“Oh no,” Mom pooh-poohs. “She’d love to. It’s like pulling teeth to get her out of that garage. She’d love it.”

Bob must have a fraction of insight and jumps in. “Sweetheart, I think we can let these two figure things out for themselves.”

What the fu . . .My mouth moves without my permission as my body heats to the temperature of a blow torch. “Figure what out?”

It must be the shock of my voice, but all utensils still.

My mom takes over. “We thought it would be nice for you two to get to know each other. Now that you’re single, Brad has friends and . . .”

Brad’s eyes grow wide, but I can’t tell what that means, and I don’t care to know.

My inability to handle uncomfortable and difficult situations kicks in, and my mouth moves. “I’m not.”

My mom chews and swallows, appearing pleased with herself. “You’re not what, honey?”

I set my fork down, a thick layer of sweat coating my completely clothed body, and if I were anywhere else, I’d be stripping, especially these pants. “I’m not single.”

“Oh,” she perks like a dog waiting for a bone.

My heart joins in on the freakout party and begins to race. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, needing the distraction and not giving a single crap if it’s rude. Being pawned out to my mom’s new-forced-stepson’s-friends feels like permission to flip the bird in the form of looking at my phone.

I see a notification that Mark posted something new. I click on it.

What. Did. He. Do?

A picture of me in bed fills my screen. You can’t see my face, but my hair is sprawled out over the pillow. My naked shoulder is peeking out of the covers, and the light filtering through the window is just enough to create yellow rays of warmth.

The caption reads:The rest of my life.

I bite my lip, hiding the smile that breaks through.

“Alex, what is it?” my mom asks.

I pull my attention away from my phone and back to this mess. “Nothing.”

---