If Justin chooses work over me, I don’t care.
If my family hates Justin, I don’t care.
If I’m not happy all the time, I don’t care.
If love isn’t what I built up in my mind, I don’t care.
If I chose the wrong brother, I don’t care.
At least I won’t have to be alone.
Besides, not caring has its benefits. There’s less smiling and pleasing everyone. There’s less disappointment because you’re already planning on your expectations not being met.
Yes, this is the newindifferentSummer.
“Summer?” my mom says, and I snap my head up, remembering I’m on table-setting duty.
“Sorry.” I glance at the plates in the china cupboard in my parents’ dining room.
“Do we need Christmas plates for the little kids, or do you want them to eat on paper plates?” I start counting, making sure my mom has enough.
“Summer?” she says behind me.
I hold my finger up, still mid-count.
“Summer,” she repeats my name but this time with a little more force behind it, causing me to turn over my shoulder and look at her. She’s wearing a Christmas apron with a dish towel thrown over her shoulder. Her eyes look sad, full of worry.
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you.”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s my birthday and Christmas Eve—the best day of the year—why would anything be wrong?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself. This is usually your favorite day, so I can’t figure out why you look so sad.” She shifts her weight, placing her hand on her hip. “It’s about Justin, isn’t it?”
“No, I don’t care about Justin.” I wince, catching how bad that sounds. “I mean, everything’s fine with Justin.”
“He’s going to propose to you tonight. Did you know that?”
“What?” I gasp, abandoning the Christmas plates and facing her.
“He came over last night and asked us for your hand in marriage.”
I cover my mouth with my fingers, then drop them enough to speak. “What did you say?”
I half expect my mom to have turned him down.
“What did you want us to say?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you answering like you’re asking me?”
“I’m not.” I straighten, fixing my tone so my answer comes out the way it’s supposed to. “Of course I want you guys to give your permission. To say yes. You know how much I want to get married.”
“That’s what worries me. You are so eager to get to the next phase of life that you’re willing to settle.” She shakes her head, moving her finger back and forth. “Actually, I take that back. I’m not sure if you’re settling or not. One minute, I think Justin’s the perfect guy for you, and I tell myself to relax, and then the next minute, there are twenty thousand red flags, and it’s all I can do to keep my mouth shut and not warn you.”
“Not this again.” I roll my eyes, dropping into the dining room chair. “Mom, Justin is a good guy.”
