Page 197 of Vegas Heat

“How dare you?” she asks. “I came to visit you and you can’t be bothered to spend any time with me at all!” She’s immediately on the defensive again, never a good place for her to be. That’s when she strikes out.

That’s when things turn nasty.

I slide into my usual chair at the table and shovel a huge spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Were you at Cooper’s house?”

The question takes me so off guard that I choke on a Cheerio. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge to clear it out, and by the time I’ve chugged half of it down, she’s pursing her lips and shaking her head.

“I knew it. Iknewthere was something going on between the two of you. And your father doesn’t know, does he?” She looks up at the ceiling with a menacing laugh. “God, men are so stupid. Even that Cooper guy, to act around you the way he does, all protective, and your father is so blind to all of it. You’re hiding it from him, but why?” She taps her chin, and the horror that planted in my stomach last night at the thought that she might try to come between Cooper and me seems to blossom in my chest.

Her being here is only going to drive us closer together.

I repeat the mantra in my head.

But what if she spills it to my dad?

“Let’s see, why wouldn’t you want Troy to find out about you two?” She stands and paces around the kitchen a little as that horror in my chest continues to bloom. “Could it be because you’re so much younger than him?” She shrugs as she contemplates that thought. “Or is it because Troy is close with Cooper? Hmm…” She trails off as she thinks that one over, too. “Or maybe it’s because daddy’s little girl doesn’t want to disappoint him with her terrible taste in men.” She cackles with delight at her suggestion.

“Before you take your little fictional story any further, I should jump in to tell you I was at Mia’s place,” I lie, pouring weedkiller all over that blooming horror to cut it off at the source.

I mean…technically, I did stop by there. It’s not a lie.

The only problem is that I know my mother, and once she thinks she’s onto something, she will continue to pick and gnaw at it until she proves it to be true. More than once I could have sworn she manifested something out of thin air just because she believed so heartily in it.

“Oh, Mia. How’s she doing? I always thought she’d be so pretty if she just cut and colored her hair.” She tsks as if that’s a bad thing, as if one’s entire worth depends on how attractive my mother finds their hair.

“She and her hair are doing great, and she’s gorgeous and perfect just the way she is.”

She misses my tone, but that’s pretty standard. She’s too lost in her own little world to get it.

“That’s nice,” she says, offering a fake smile. “So tell me more about this internship.”

My first thought is that it’ll be nice to talk about something other than where she thinks I was last night, regardless of whether she’s right or not. But then I realize she’s asking for one of two reasons. Either she wants to get some intel on my father and his fiancée, or she’s trying to find some nugget of information to prove Cooper and I are an item.

I steer clear of those topics. “It’s a general internship with the stadium, so I along with six other interns have had opportunities to work in several different departments. Because of my major, mainly I’ve been working with business and marketing. We’re currently competing in a marketing challenge, and the top two winners have a shot at interviewing for an open full-time position.”

I keep it generic, and I leave out the parts about me shadowing Cooper.

And the stadium shenanigans. Those I definitely leave out.

“And how much time do you spend with Cooper there?” she demands.

I shrug. “Not that much. He’s sponsoring a kids’ play structure, and part of my internship has been working on that with him. That’s about it.”

She narrows her eyes at me as if she doesn’t believe me. “And this woman your father has decided to marry? What do we know about her?”

“Mom, if you want details on her, you should ask him. I’m not playing this game.” I shove my cereal into my mouth, trying to finish as quickly as possible to get myself out of this situation.

She gives me a look that clearly tells me she’s hurt by what I’m implying, but I’m beyond the point of caring. I stand and head toward the sink to rinse my dish, and she sighs rather dramatically.

“What are we going to do today?” she asks.

I lift a shoulder. “We aren’t doing anything. I have a paper due tomorrow that I haven’t started, so I am going to head to campus to work at the library.”

She purses her lips again. “You haven’t started yet? Same old Gabby.”

I spin around to face her. “Same old Gabby?” I practically screech. “Mother, I was salutatorian and you made me feel like I wasn’t good enough because I wasn’t number one. My entire life you’ve made me feel like a failure, and I will not let you come into this house, into a place that has very much become a sanctuary for me, and ruin this for me. I’m an adult. I’m earning straight As while I’m working hard to line up a job I deserve after graduation. And instead of being proud of me, you’re accusingme of things that aren’t true. You’re making me feel like I’m not good enough just like you’ve always done.”

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