Page 43 of Contingently Yours
My phone resounds with a familiar ring tone, making me groan, but I answer it. There can be no better way to cleanse my brain of my current debacle than a chat with my mother.
“I stopped by yesterday and you weren’t home,” comes her veiled scolding, and any hello is forgotten.
“If you’d called first, I could have told you that so you didn’t waste a trip.”
“I was in the area doing some shopping.”
Wow. Way to be blunt. She didn’t come to see me at all.
“I’m in Massachusetts showing some properties.”
“The miles you probably put on that car of yours,” she tsks. “Lou should give you a company vehicle.”
“I flew. First class on his dime. Don’t worry.” Rolling my eyes, I toss my toothbrush into my bag. Her disdain for all things Uncle Lou is astounding. “Although, I guess I could have picked this last one up as a get-well present for him,” I add, just to push her buttons.
“Get-wellpresent?”
“Yeah. He had surgery yesterday.”
“For what?”
Is that actually alarm in her voice? Loretta Broadhouse has never shown an ounce of alarm over her brother in my life. “Hernia repair. Aunt Vera said he’s sore, but he’s all right. He has to take it easy for a few days, so I guess he’ll be laid up at home if you want to go visit him,” I venture, curious about how deep her unexpected sympathy runs.
“Oh?” There’s a pause, and then her unconcerned tone returns. “I’ll send him a card.”
Yup. I knew it was a fluke. Whatever falling out they had years ago—that no one has ever elaborated on—has me shaking my head. At least, I assume there must have been a falling out. Her repeated claims of him being the black sheep of the family whenever I used to ask why he was rarely ever invited to familyfunctions never seemed to add up to that kind of isolation. And by family functions, I mean only Christmas.
“That isverygenerous of you, Mother Dearest,” I deadpan.
“Don’t call me that,” she scolds. “I know what movie you’re talking about, and I am nothing like that.” I bite my lip on a snicker, mentally picturing her spine stiffen over the jab. “Did he send me anything when I had back surgery five years ago? No. I don’t think so.”
Sighing when I zip up my bag, I realize I don’t even care about whatever their age-old feud is right now. I need to slip into bed before my bearded cock interest decides to come to bed. Two can play possum, and I plan to play the Lucas Everette card tonight, closing my baby greens before he even gets here.
“How’s Dad?” I ask, deflecting and trying to be a good son.
“Busy…”
Fuck. Why did I even ask? That’s the most loaded statement I’ve ever heard. “He could use your help if you’re finally tired of being a house salesman.”
“Real estate agent, and no. I’m working on the deal of a lifetime right now. Also, I think his exact words on my last day at Broadhouse Publishing were,‘You’re fired.’I highly doubt he asked for my help.”
I want to tell her the scoff she makes is unladylike, but why poke the bear more than I already have? “He was just upset. If you’d told him you were dating that intern and explained all those charges on the company card, he might have been more reasonable.”
“One—It is not my fault he didn’t elaborate on what types of purchases could be made over the workday. And two—which intern?”
There’s a grumbling noise on the other end of the line that makes me smile. “I’m not discussing this with you if you can’t be serious.”
Leaning against the doorframe, I inspect my cuticles. “Maybe I’m being perfectly serious.”
“You’re just like him, you know?” she huffs.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
How in the hell does sleeping with a few employees who had just as much of a blast as I did make me just like my stalwart father? Am I missing something?
She elaborates without me having to ask. “Never appreciating one thing, always thinking something better is out there.”
