Page 69 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

My mood sinks even further.

Honestly, I kind of wish my mother didn’t come. Not only is she getting on my nerves but she’s clearly getting on my dad’s as well. He’s hardly said anything, while she won’t stop talking.

After I take a bite of my flavorless burger, I look at my dad and tell him, “I miss Dick’s Drive-In.”

As he chews, he lifts his brows as if he’s about to say something, but my mother speaks first. “You want me to bring you a burger from there? I can do that next week.”

God, she’s trying way too hard.

I don’t give her a response, and when I take another bite, my dad says, “As soon as you come home, you and I will go together.”

I give him a small smile, which I can tell irks my mom.

“Anyway,” she starts again, “I was thinking we could do something different for Thanksgiving this year and go to a nice restaurant.”

I tune her out as I continue to eat. While I’m busy trying to avoid eye contact with her, I look over to Sebastian who’s slung back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s the only one out here with no family. As much as mine annoys me, they at least showed up. A part of me wants to invite him to sit with us, but I know better than to subject him to that.

“Harlow? Are you listening to me?” my mom nags, and when I look at her, her lips are pinched into a tight line. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” I snap defensively.

“Why are you taking that tone with me?”

“What tone?” My influx of irritation is noticeable.

My focus is pulled away again when I see Sebastian stand and walk over to a couple of the staff. He looks angry, with his fists balled at his sides before Marcus leads him back inside.

“Do you know that boy?” my mom asks when she notices where my attention has gone.

Rolling my eyes, I remind her, “I live here. Of course, I know him.”

She drops her hand onto the table with an exasperated, “What is with the attitude? I was hoping to spend a nice afternoon together.”

Is she out of her mind?

“A nice afternoon?” I mock. “Look around, Mom.”

“Calm down,” my father reprimands.

“Are you seriously going to take her side again?”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” he says. “I’m just asking you to calm down.”

I shove my plate to the center of the table before crossing my arms and sitting back in a huff.

“Harlow, please,” she says as if I’m the problem.

With a snide tilt of my head, I give her the bitchiest plastic smile I can conjure, which chafes her.

“What has gotten into you?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t this what you want, a nice pleasant afternoon where we all sit around as if this whole situation isn’t the shit show that it is?”

“That’s enough, young lady,” my father berates. “You are not going to sit here and talk to you mother like that. Show some respect.”

“Why should I respect her? Huh? Tell me. I really want to know.”

“I’m trying,” she says, emotion coating her words. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

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