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“Mom,” I cut through the running commentary on the gown, the flowers, the venue and the guest list. “I need your advice.”
“Man trouble again?” But she says it fondly, not in that exasperated tone I sometimes get from Candy.
Then again, knowing that Candy’s preggers, maybe that has something to do with her lack of patience lately?
“It’s this guy I talked to you about before. Ryan.”
“That fortress still hasn’t fallen?”
“It’s still holding.” I sigh. “I’ve tried everything, Mamma. I thought I had a breakthrough. He kissed me.”
“Ooh.” I can imagine the spark in her eyes. “Was it hot?”
“Yeah, pretty hot.” Incredibly so. “But then he stopped paying attention to me again.”
Hot and cold, time and again. This can’t be normal. A person with such personality swings has to be a psycho killer or something.
“Did you cook for him?”
“Well…” I hedge. “I baked.”
“That’s not the same, baby.”
We’ve had this conversation before. “It should be at—”
“—your home, your own turf, so you can control the atmosphere. Cook something simple but good, dress up, put on the lacy underwear and… rawr.”
Yeah, I know this is my mom. We’ve always been like sisters. It’s cool. “How can I invite him home if he won’t even talk to me?”
“So bad, is it? Was it something you said? What did you bake him?”
“Cookies and cake.” I go for honesty. “The cookies were a bit burnt. And I think the cake sagged too much in the middle.” It was like a volcanic crater. “Do you think that could be why?”
Though he rejected me before even taking a look at the cake, so…
“Okay, so maybe baking is out.”
“But, Mom! You said the way to the heart goes through the stomach—”
“Not always, baby.”
I lick my lips. “That was my plan. Now what should I do?”
“Well, every man has a weak point, an Achilles’ heel, a vulnerable point.”
I blink. “You want me to kill him?”
She laughs, and I grin. My mom gets my sense of humor better than anyone. “Only understand him. If you really want him, Brylee. I think you twisted my words a little. I never said you should find a man who doesn’t want you. A man you don’t want.”
“I want him.”
“Do you love him?”
I laugh. “Of course not.”
Fac
t is, I’m not sure what I feel exactly. About Ryan. About Riddick.
