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I gave her a look. “Mom…”

“What?”

“Flannel Phil,” I deadpanned. “The guy at the bar who gets so wasted you have to call his son to come get him twice a month.”

“So?” She went to the kitchen and grabbed another diet cola from the fridge. “It’s responsible he don’t drive when he’s like that.”

“It would be if he was the one sober enough to call for the ride.”

She dropped onto the sofa. “They aren’t exactly lining up, Larissa. You’re gonna get married one day and leave me. I don’t want to end up alone. I want a man. I’m sick of breaking down my own boxes. I want someone to dig out my damn car when it snows.”

“But Phil? Mom. Know your worth.”

Lexi sucked air through her teeth. “I don’t know. Sometimes you gotta have a flash sale, you know what I’m sayin’?”

I shot her a glare. “Lexi!”

She shrugged unapologetically.

I turned back to my mother. “Mom, you’re not doing yourself any favors by dating another Dad.”

She waved her can around. “He’s wining and dining me. I’m letting him take me to the casino, he’s paying. I don’t see the harm. And he did give me that money, it just took him a few weeks. He had a deal coming through. He just needed to wait for the check.” She took a swallow of her soda. “There’s no such thing as the perfect man. They all got something, believe me. You have to accept the good with the bad.”

“I do not intend to do that. I’m not dealing with anyone’s bad,” I said, going back to balling socks.

“Okay. Well, good for you. I hope you don’t.”

“Want me to meet him?” Lexi asked. “I’m an excellent judge of character. I can spot a narcissist from a thousand yards away—unless I’m attracted to him, then I’m legally blind.”

I made an amused sound.

“Yes, you can meet him,” Mom said. “Go right ahead. I think he’s great.” She kicked her feet up on the coffee table and turned on the TV. “Oh, shit,” she muttered. “Did we forget to pay the cable?”

I twisted to look at the screen. There was a notification letting us know we didn’t have a subscription to this streaming service.

“We weren’t paying for cable, remember? You were using that guy’s password,” I said.

“Oh, that’s right. He must have booted us out. Ask Mike if you can have his.”

“I’m not asking him that. It’s embarrassing.”

“Ask Chris, then.”

“An even harder no. Why don’t you ask Phil?” I batted my eyes at her.

She set her can down, picked up her phone, and started texting. A minute later a reply pinged through. “Got it.” She shimmied her shoulders victoriously while she keyed in the login. “What should we watch? Oh, they got that new Josh Brolin one. He gets me going—I think Phil looks a little like him, whatdaya think?”

I scoffed quietly. No.

My cell phone vibrated. It was Chris.

I sent it to your mom, but in case you lose it, here’s the password.

I stared at the message, horrified. “Mom!”

She looked over at me innocently. “What?”

“You texted Chris for his login?”