Page 12 of Love Me Like It's Real
“Oh those? They’re from the guy that bought Special Blend. He makes excellent coffee but his baked goods are…”
“An abomination?” I frown and knock the muffin on the table.
“Yeah. That. He’s so sweet though. I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the muffins. Besides, Catherine’s bakes more than make up for it.” She winces at the sight of the unbreakable muffin but my gaze lands on the piece of paper under the plate of indestructible muffins.
“What is that?” I ask, pulling the piece of paper toward me.
It’s all red and pink with hearts and rainbows across the top andSecret Admirer Gift Exchangein bold, bubbly letters across the midsection.
“What?” Mom asks.
“Did you design this?” I lift it and turn it toward her.
“What if I did?”
“Mom! You’re helping them now? That’s crazy.”
“Why? Don’t you like it?” Mom pouts.
“I do. But that’s not the point. Why would you help those people bring more sickening love in this town.”
“Because I’m an artist?”
“Well, yeah but what about me?”
“You arenotan artist,” she says pointedly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Mom groans.
“I know what you meant, but I can’t keep having this conversation, sweetie. You turn so annoying every January and February.”
I gasp. “How dare you!”
“Well, you do. Why can’t you just accept people love love even if you don’t?”
“Because! Love is a?—”
“Scam. Yes, I know. But not everyone sees it that way,” Mom says.
“Well, that’s why I’m trying to…”
“Be insufferable? Well that’s fine, sweetie, but it doesn’t mean I have to do the same. What happens when you get over yourself and finally fall in love again?”
I scoff. “That’s never going to happen!” I raise my voice only because I’m fed up with people telling me that.
What part of love-sucks-and-I-want-nothing-to-do-with-it don’t they understand? Do I have to paint it on my forehead ‘til they get the memo? My forehead is not that big to fit it all in.
“Have I ever told you the story about the boy?” Mom asks.
I frown because I didn’t understand. “What boy?”
“The boy that said never. You know what happened to him?”
“Did he die?”
Mom laughs. “No, sweetie. He bit his own hand because he said never. But never came back at him like a boomerang.”
