I glanced at my phone, wondering if Mateo’s seduction plan was working.
Ugh. I needed to put all of that out of my mind and ready myself for dinner.
I hated that I always felt the need to put guards up when I was around my mom. I did love her, but that didn’t change the fact that my relationship with her was far different than she had with my brothers.
My blood pressure was skyrocketing just from sitting in the driveway. I did what my therapist had suggested and drew in a slow, deliberate breath. I held it, released it, and reminded myself that this would be fine.
I did dinner every Sunday and was fine. Right? And if things went sideways, I’d remove myself from the situation. I’d hold my boundaries. I’d make sure that if she said anything mean or completely rude, I’d leave.
“You coming inside?”
Austin’s muffled yell from the front door was the end of my peace. I grabbed my bag and hopped out of the truck. I headeddown the sidewalk and plastered on a smile, but who was I kidding? Austin had the same forced smile on his face.
I raised a brow. “Anything I should know?”
“Well, she’s asking Dallas and I when we’re going to give her grandchildren,” he said lightly. “So I’m happy you’re here. You can take some of the heat.”
“Oh joy. Great. Wonderful.”
Austin held the door open for me and I stepped inside, immediately met with the familiar scent of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and roasted veggies. I kicked my shoes off and hung my bag, rolling my shoulders and bracing myself for whatever mess this was going to be.
“Hi,” I called, heading straight to the kitchen.
I rounded the corner and wasn’t surprised to see Mom pulling a pan out of the oven. My smile faltered as she stood up. She’d lost some weight and that concerned me, since I’d seen her only last week. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and I noticed more gray than usual. She turned, the angle showing me her face, and . . . damn. Maybe Dallas was right to be worried. She wasn’t wearing any makeup.
My entire life, this woman got up before dawn to put her face on. It’s just how she was. In fact, I couldn’t remember a day where she didn’t have makeup on before eight in the morning—including the day of my father’s funeral.
“Avery,” she said without glancing at me. “Glad you made it on time.”
Just a little slap. “Just a couple minutes late. Where’s Dallas?”
“He’s hanging up some pictures of Dad for me.”
Well, fuck. Great. My stomach did a slow flip, but I kept that smile plastered on as I stepped up to the sink to wash my hands. “Want some help?”
She snorted. “Since when do you help in the kitchen?”
“Almost every Sunday,” I said. “Would you like some help?”
If I didn’t help, she’d grumble about it the rest of dinner.
Mom sighed. “Set the table. Use the green dishes. I’m tired of the blue ones.”
“All right,” I said.
The dining room was right across from the kitchen. It was large and good for parties. A wooden hutch with glass doors sat against the wall, full of different dish sets that’d been in the family forever. I opened it, carefully pulling four plates from the green section. My gaze lingered on the fifth plate, but I let the door close and carried them to the table, setting everything quickly.
My spine stiffened as she slammed some of the cabinets, grumbling to herself under her breath. I was pretty sure I caught the words “ungrateful” and “always doing all the work,” but decided to tune her out.
For a while there, I thought it was goingbetter. After Dad died, she’d been a lot nicer. She’d clung to me in a way that made me feel wanted. But now, I was pretty sure she’d completely swung the other way and wantednothingto do with me.
I ignored the ache in my chest and returned to the kitchen, opening the silverware drawer. We didn’t say a word to each other until Austin came back into the kitchen.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“We’ve got it,” Mom chimed. “You can take a seat, if you want.”
I pressed my lips together and finished setting out linen napkins with forks and knives.
