“It’s Monday here,” Dad shouts in the background. “Our weekend’s over and done!”
“I’ve had a really good weekend.” I slide a hand over the bed so Stormy can smell it. His nose twitches, possibly because I still carry an aura of campfire. He taps my hand with his nose a few times before giving it a head bonk. Progress! “Reed took me to his family’s cabin up in Bigleaf Canyon.”
“Oh.” Mom’s gasp sounds perfectly rehearsed for the stage. “Was his family with you or were you alone?”
Her emphasis on the last word probably comes complete with eyebrow waggles.
“We were with his family, Mom.”
She makes a noise like an excited mouse. “Things must be getting serious for him to introduce you to his family.”
“Very serious,” Dad echoes.
“I’ve already met his family. They come into the coffee shop all the time.”
“But this is different. This isprogress.”
I don’t like how perfectly she repeated my own thoughts about my efforts with Stormy. Is she in my head, or am I in hers?
“They consider you part of their family now,” she adds.
After the Bridgers’ generous welcome, I don’t doubt that’s true. But I don’t like Mom making it sound like we’re co-conspirators who masterminded Reed’s invitation to the cabin. As if all her sneaky “get your crush to love you” articles finally paid off, and now I’m in some elusive winner’s circle.
“This is an important stage, honey. Don’t rock the boat now. You want to be sure you’re nice and agreeable so they’ll see you for the sweetheart you are. You didn’t wear shabby clothes all weekend, did you?”
Probably not the time to tell her I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours without a dot of makeup on, smelling like campfire smoke, and licking my fingers clean after roasting my own s’mores. Dad would have to pick her up off the floor.
She constantly reminds me I need to look my best for men, but I don’t think Reed cares. He doesn’t look at me like he does. Sometimes I think he likes me more the more rumpled I am.
“My clothes were fine.” And mostly belonged to Reed, but again, that wouldn’t reassure her. Or it would possibly reassure her too much. It’s hard to tell.
“Just be sure you’re at your best, honey. When you think you’ve put in enough effort, try a little more. You don’t want your relationship with Reed to fall apart now.”
All weekend, I was a little Rose-balloon, floating above the sun-dappled grass. In one fell swoop, Mom crushed that Rose-balloon back down to the ground. I don’t think she means to drain my happiness, but that doesn’t change the end result.
Exhaustion overtakes me as if I haven’t slept in days. “I don’t have much time this afternoon, Mom. I’ve got plans.”
Plans to keep remodeling my house she hasn’t given up control of. Confessing about a little coat of paint doesn’t seem all that urgent when she still wants to steer my life, too.
“Okay, honey. We’re rooting for you not to mess this one up.” She laughs sweetly as she cuts me to ribbons. “We want you to hold onto that man!”
I imagine someone talking to Jovie like this, peppering their conversation with back-handed compliments and subtle insults. Before the make-believe scene even finishes playing out, anger rises up inside me to knock that person down. I want to defend Reed’s little niece from the thousand tiny pinpricks comments like this leave behind.
But when it’s me and my mom? When I’m the one facing an onslaught of playful reminders of my mistakes and insecurities? I can’t find the words.
“I’ll talk to you soon.” I hang up without waiting for her goodbye and toss the phone aside. Stormy shifts, not appreciating that rude behavior, but he closes his eyes again a second later.
More than anything, I want to hold onto what I’ve got with Reed. But I feel less equipped to do that than ever.
32
reed
I’d hateto tell Nathan he has some competition in the “way too giddy for someone else’s happiness” category. I’m not sure what lengths he’d go to win his title back if he knew.
On Monday, Troy can’t get in enough smirks and sideways glances at Rose and me. I’ve told him to tone it down twice already, but that seems beyond his abilities. I’m still out front with them as the lunch rush dies down, lingering beyond my usefulness. We don’t need three people out here with only stragglers wandering in, but I haven’t brought myself to go into the office.
I’m acting like a fool, completely. I can own it. I just can’t do anything about it. Just like Troy can’t stop batting his eyelashes and all but singing the K-I-S-S-I-N-G song, I don’t want to walk away from Rose. I don’t know what my face is doing, but it must make that painfully obvious.
