Page 11 of We Can't Be Friends

I answer truthfully, but.

“Grand. Our Hayes Hotel Chicago location opens—”

There is a scoff. “That’s why I’m calling. I spoke with your brother; he and Harrison were over for dinner. They informed us of the opening date.” Her tone alludes to her not knowing beforehand, but I told her. Sent an official invite. “Your father and I won’t be able to attend the opening. It is during Harrison’s birthday weekend.” I can hear the distaste and disappointment in her voice. “Found it awfully rude of you to plan an opening on your brother’s birthday.”

“His birthday is the Monday before.”

“Birthdays last more than a day, you know,” she glees sarcastically.

And no, I wouldn’t know. Growing up as the youngest son, but technically being a middle child, was quite rueful. My birthday, my matches, and my achievements were all glossed over. My parents—correction only Mom, focused on my brothers and Audrey.

It’s not common knowledge whether they wanted more kids after Harrison was born. The suspected answer was no. But they had me. Mom always wanted a girl, and a part of me believes that is why she treats me the way she does. An accidental baby would be easier to swallow if it was the gender you wanted.

Two years later, they had Audrey.

My mom’s antics repeat in my head, easily finding their mark—not that they ever leave. This is the second time in minutes that they sat in the driver's seat of my brain.

“Why can’t you be more like them?”

“Is it that hard to strive to be like your brothers?”

“Do better. Your brothers were able to accomplish. . .”The statement could be filled with a variety of answers that ranged depending on where I landed on the likable scale that day.

Whenever she’d say some form of the same remarks, they dug deeper into my skin, an imprint I’ve never been able to rid myself of.

“It was not intentional. The date was decided upon by the entire team, one of which is Liam,the owner,” I remind her, keeping my tone in check despite the frustration rising within me. Usually, because I’m conditioned to this, there is no emotion, but this is ridiculous. Exhausting. “I promise.”

A week early birthday? She’s reaching—and I thought I was finally out of reach of her criticism. Older. Across the world.

“And mentioning your family to Liam wasn’t important? Ridiculous.”

There is no winning with her, I swear.

I run a hand through my hair. It’s longer than I’ve kept it for the past few years. The strands are curling on the ends.

Stifling a groan, it comes out as a choked exhale.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, CallumJasper?” Mom follows up with, not even giving me a minute to process and respond. She uses my full name but cringes on my middle name.

“The date is set, and it is too late to change,” I respond firmly in an exhale. To appease her, I add, “However, next time, I promise to ensure that it will not interfere with any important family matters.”

It’s not like this should be an essential family matter to them. Hayes Hotel opening a North American location? Who am I kidding? None of them care—Audrey does, I remind myself. Dad too.

“And you’ll apologize to your brother?”

“Sure,” I reply, the frustration and annoyance finally slipping out. I run my hand through my hair again.

“Callum, I expect you to.”

“Okay.” I try to say it positively.

“Thank you,” my mother grumbles.

“Is this everything you called about?”

“No, it is not.” She huffs. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“No?”

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