Page 76 of Contingently Yours
At least Lucas will be happy when he checks his bank account next week. That much made me smile.
“Is that what this is?” I ask, stuffing a shrimp into my mouth without even tasting it.
“What’s the matter with you?” Chad’s voice calls from my side, where I see him walk in with my father. Smirking, he grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge. “Real estate falling through?”
Does everyone think I’m pouting like the prodigal son? Not everything is about the freaking Broadhouse family. For fuck’s sake.
“I just made almost a million dollars this month. Real estate is fine,” I inform him without any fanfare. It’s just a fact, but because he started it and the surprised look on his face satisfies my miserable mood, I suggest, “Maybe you should try it sometime.”
Snorting, he still looks bewildered, like he knows I’m not shitting him about the figure. Face pink, he tries to hide it by taking a swig of his beer as he leaves the room.
My father’s expression looks contemplative, but one look at my mother beating the hell out of the dip, and he makes a casual beeline for his den. Her gaze follows him like a hawk, an angry Botoxed hawk with a Tammy Wynette updo. It’s a rerun I haven’t missed, and one I blame for not knowing that love smacked me right in the face without me even realizing it.
Sighing, she sets her spoon down and wipes a nonexistent mess from her hands. “Well, if you’re not going to eat, at least get yourself a drink before you go out there, so you can try to be social. Come on.”
She stalks into the den after my father, and I groan under my breath. I don’t want to be her lackey for whatever row she’s having with Dad today, but I follow anyway because I have no energy to argue.
Nodding at my father, I drop onto one of the leather couches and watch my mother pretend she didn’t march up to the bar just to be in the same space as him. She scoops ice into two glasses with the command of a general and pours us both a drink. Turning, she smiles as much as she can, back to being hostess of the year, and walks over to hand me a glass.
“So, what’s new with you?”
Taking a seat opposite me, I catch her gaze flicking to my father to see if he’ll join her. He stops next to his bookshelves and leans an elbow on one of them, causing a tiny furrow between my mother’s brows. No wonder I don’t know what love looks like.
“I met someone,” I mutter, staring into the amber liquid that reminds me of the color of Lucas’ eyes.
“Oh? Where?”
“At work.”
Mom makes atsksound and remarks dryly, “Well, I guess you’ve learned nothing.”
I feel like I’ve been chopped up in a blender, and that’s the starter conversation she leads with? And people meet people they work with all the time. For all they know, I could have wanted to marry that intern that I didn’t even go out with. I’m so sick of feeding into it, though. I have no snappy retort today that will get under her skin.
‘At least I’m honest.’
Lucas’ words ring through me like a ghost melody.
“I really like him,” I tell her, feeling bold.
“Who?”
“The guy I’ve been…” I’m not sure how to fill in that blank, and certainly don’t want to say ‘fucking’ because it was more than that, even if Lucas doesn’t think so right now. “With,” I finally settle on.
Maybe I shouldn’t even be speaking to anyone at all today because it occurs to me I’m just staring at my drink with no concept of how much time has passed, too lost in my own thoughts. It’s quiet when I look up. Dad looks a bit shocked, but also, strangely nervous. Mom lets out a fake-sounding laugh and then rolls her eyes.
“Is this your latest shenanigan?” She takes a sip of her drink and sits back, folding an arm over her stomach. “Well, try again. You won’t be ruining our day. We’re going to have a nice luncheon without any of your outlandish antics today.”
Unbelievable. Even when I tell her the truth, she doesn’t take me seriously.
Slumping back against the couch, I rub my thumb over the pattern cut into the crystal, imagining what it would be like to talk about a new partner with a normal family.
“He’s a veteran,” I murmur, deciding that pretending is as close as I’ll ever get. “He flies for Uncle Lou. He’s got two little sisters that he dotes on. And…he thinks the sun shines out of my ass.” A sardonic laugh chuffs out of my lungs as I bring the glass to my lips. “God knows why,” I mumble, taking a sip, but it’s not funny anymore. It’s just…sad. “And…I think I’m in love with him.”
Scotch. Definitely scotch, I decide as the liquid burns its way down my throat. It’s nice to feel something other than the ache in my chest for a moment. Glancing up, I realize I’ve done that thing again where I lose track of time.
Mom is staring at me, mouth parted like she just swallowed her tongue. Shit. I guess I pretended aloud. Dad tugs at the collarof his shirt, which isn’t tight by any means, and turns to stare out the window.
“You have nothing to say? You always have something to say,” comes Mom’s anxious voice, but she’s not looking at me. Huffing, she shakes her head and closes her eyes, muttering, “This is your fault.”
