Page 85 of 10 Days to Ruin

“That’s just your rose-colored Mom Glasses talking.”

She shakes her head, her smile as bright as summer. “Now, don’t play coy. It’s also your hair up in a— Hm, I know those braids. Dead giveaway. You heading to a date after this? Or coming from one?”

I blush. No matter what, her radar never fails. “It’s not a date. It’s…”A date. Tell it like it is, Ariel. You can’t sell bullshit to the woman who made you—she’ll smell it a mile away.

I try anyway. “The latter. Sort of. Not really.”

“Mhmm. With a man?”

I stay silent.

“Just you and him?”

I stay silent some more.

“This isn’t a trial, Riri. You can’t plead the Fifth.”

“I can try.”

“Fine.” She feigns indifference, her nose turned up to the skies. “We won’t talk about your hot hunk of a boyfriend.”

“Wait—how do you know he’s a hunk?”

She smirks. “So he is a hunk! And hot! And your boyfriend!”

Fuck me.Played right into her hands. “He’s not myboyfriend,” I grumble, ashamed of how easily I folded. “He’s… something.”

She nods sagely. “Great. Shall we toast to your ‘something,’ then? Perhaps with a nice cone of Pistachio Chocolate Dream?”

I close my eyes. I can already taste it—that milky, sugary perfection. “Fine, but only if you’re treating.”

“Of course. You’re still being paid in leprechaun gold, aren’t you?”

“Ouch, Mother. At least rub Sea Salt Caramel into that wound.”

Laughing, she loops her arm through mine and we hit up the ice cream shop on the corner. Once we’ve got our cones of shame—four scoops and whipped cream, as if metabolism is just a river in Egypt—we head to the park. There’s a family of ducks whose shenanigans we’ve been following religiously, and I’m starving for updates.

Also, for quality time with my mom.

We haven’t had much of that since she left fifteen years ago, one week after Jasmine did. I saw her on weekends, sure, but it was never quite the same. Those first few months after the separation, I’d catch myself going to her room to ask her opinion about a dress, or help with homework.

Every time, I found it empty.

Every time, I bawled my eyes out.

Which is why, since then, I’ve been determined to make this work. No—weare. Mama wasn’t any happier to be separated from me, and we quickly decided that, if we had to have less time together, we’d make every moment wedidhave count. In ways big and small. It’s just my luck that today’s regularly scheduled reunion is coming right on the heels of that definitely-not-a-date with Sasha.

“So,” I start. “What’s Quill Quackdashian been up to?”

“Oh, you have no idea. Last week, she took little Quortney for a swim around the islet. The poor baby kept falling over herself, it was so adorable. Total cuteness overload.”

I palm my forehead. “Mom, that hasn’t been a thing since, like, 2013.”

“Well, I’m making it a thing again.” She whips her hair and harrumphs. “Like ‘epic fail.’”

“Andthathasn’t seen the light of day since the Financial Crisis.”

“What can I say? I’m an old soul.”

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