Page 111 of Playing Flirty

“Wonderful! Do you need anything?” Neema asked.

“No. I have everything I need in my bags.” My mother walked to the kitchen. “Shall I cook some dinner?”

“Mom, you’ve been traveling for hours,” I said. “Rest. We’ll get some pizza.”

My mother waved her hand in the air, brushing me off while she opened a cabinet and scanned its contents. She had a talent for whipping up a delicious curry in twenty minutes, which is exactly what she did. We inhaled every bite and collapsed on the couch in a food coma.

“How come you can’t cook like that?” Neema asked, rubbing her belly.

“Ask her.” I pointed at my mom.

My mother laughed. She knew we didn’t have time for a cooking lesson, not to mention there was never a recipe. My mother didn’t use them. She tossed spices blindly into her pot and then sniffed and tossed some more. Half the time, she only had half the ingredients she wanted, but somehow the result was always delicious.

“When are you going to tell me about Patrick’s proposal?” Mom glanced at my finger. “I don’t see a ring, Rosie.”

“Oh, there’s a ring! There’s an enormous ring hidden somewhere in her room.” Neema hopped to her feet and hurried toward my bedroom.

My mother had my father’s name tattooed across her ring finger. A large diamond wouldn’t impress her.

Neema returned with the little box that triggered my racing heart. My mother opened it and then snapped it shut, her expression unreadable. “So what did you tell him?”

“I haven’t given him an answer yet,” I mumbled.

“Are you having doubts?” Mom asked while Dad snored beside her.

“I know exactly what I’m going to say, but he told me to take a few days. He said no good ever comes from doing something spontaneously.” I smiled, knowing how much that would upset my mom.

She narrowed her eyes. “Did he really say that?”

I nodded.

“Naughty boy. He knows you very well. I’ll give him that.”

“Why didn’t you warn me, Mom?” I looked down at my hands, avoiding her gaze. I was angry at her, but I wasn’t in the mood for more fighting. “He proposed to me on the night of Neema’s bachelorette—in a club full of people, including Shaun and William and everyone.”

“First, I didn’t know that part. He called us to ask for our blessing.”

“And second?” I asked.

“Second, I didn’t want you to be prepared, because the irony is I believe the best decisionsaremade spontaneously. The longer you thought about it, the more you’d try to reason it—and you can’t reason love. It doesn’t work that way.” While my mother generally laughed easily, her expression now was solemn.

Beside her, my father released a loud snore.

She pinched his nose, waking him. “Go to bed.”

Half-awake and grumbling, he stood and stomped off.

“Night, Dad. You can throw everything off the bed,” I called.

He nodded, but I’m not sure he heard me since he was basically sleepwalking.

My mom turned to me. “Rosie, if you had to answer Patrick at that exact moment, right there in front of everyone, what would you have said?”

No.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I know you know.” She stood and stretched her arms until her back let out a loud crack. Then, leaning down, she kissed the top of my head. “Now go to sleep. I love you forever and wherever, and I never want you to doubt that.”

Round 37

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