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“Paige! You’re back! I’d hug you but…” She holds up her sudsy hands and reveals the oil smears down the front of her overalls.
I circle the kitchen island and press a kiss to her cheek, one of the few clean spots on her person. “Where’s Dad? I want to talk to the two of you.”
Mom shuts off the water to give me an intense stare. “Are we going to like this talk?”
I shrug. “How do I know until I give you the talk? I’m not some future-telling mind reader.”
“Well it sounds like I’ve failed as a mother. I bet all the other kids can see into the future and read all the minds.”
I snort. “Yep. I have been thoroughly neglected. My brain is forever stunted. Now, where’s Dad?”
“Upstairs last I checked. Grab him and meet me in the garage. I’ve got a few things to put away.”
With a quick pat on her short head—occasionally I like to remind my mom of her miniature status—I bound up the stairs with Pumpkin following closer than a shadow.
At least I know someone I love missed me.
After pulling my dad away from his laptop, the two of us enter my mom’s dominion. Hip hop fills the space, spilling out of the speakers she mounted in each corner of the shop. The music isn’t her usual choice, but she cycles through phases, and I like the beat.
The clang of metal on metal sounds out as she arranges her tools on the big beautiful workbench just inside the door. Seeing us approach, mom grabs a remote and lowers the volume on the music until it’s just background noise. Pumpkin wanders off, probably searching for the dog bed my mom set up for her.
“So, what’s this talk, Paige?” She asks over her shoulder, continuing to sort her tools. Dad moves to stand next to her, eyes wandering around the garage.
Before I can respond, he starts to ask, “Isn’t d—”
“Dinner can wait, dear. Paige wants to talk to us.” Mom stops her fiddling to grab my dad’s arm, and she nods for me to start.
I steel my spine and meet my dad’s confused gaze. “I know you arranged the job interview with the local publisher.”
He has the grace to grimace. “Paige—”
“No, Dad. It’s okay. I know why you did it. You love me.”
“Of course I love you.”
I nod. “And I love you too. But I need you to stop loving me like that.”
The two of them share baffled stares, and I breathe in deep, trying to figure out how to explain it. The words came so much easier when I was talking to Dash.
No. I will not think about Dash.
“I mess up in life. Pretty regularly. And I think you see those messes and want to clean them up. When I was a kid, that’s what I needed. But now that I’m older, I need to clean up my own messes.” I watch them process my words. “Does that make sense?”
Slowly, my dad nods. “I think so.”
Relief washes through me. “Good. Because me losing my job and my fiancé, those are my messes.”
“Martin is a mess. You’re not a mess.” My mom’s declaration comes out so fierce I can’t help smiling at her.
“You’re right and you’re wrong. But this isn’t about him. It’s about me. So, I’m not taking that job.” When my dad goes to open his mouth, I hold up a hand. “Not just because you arranged it, even though that’s a big part, but also because it’s not what I want to do. I’m not passionate about that type of editing, and I have an opportunity to do what I’m passionate about.”
My mom’s eyes tighten, even as she attempts a smile. “They offered you the New York job, then?”
“They did.”
“And you’re going to take it?”
“I am.”
