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Her fingertips gently graze my chest in an upwards fashion. “Pretty sure you’re the amazing one.”
“I think the world is big enough for us both to be.”
She giggles over the retort and delivers a playful swat that has my grin widening as I lean down to kiss her.
“I told you he wouldn’t come, Brandi,” my mother’s voice bitterly bites, redirecting my attention away from June’s wine-colored glossed lips. “He never comes.”
“You never come to dinner?” June whispers disapprovingly. “Like ever?”
Rather than answer, I press my lips together in a vow of momentary silence.
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“Face to face?”
“OhmyMonaLisa…” she mumbles between headshakes. “At. All. Tucker.”
“She got a glimpse of me at my grandparents sixtieth wedding anniversary last year. I was on my way out and she was pulling in.”
“And you didn’t stick around to say hi?”
“Nope.”
“When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“Christmas.”
“Seriously?!”
“It’s the only time I’ll answer. Holiday spirit and shit.”
“Is that the only time she calls?”
“Nope.”
June gently pushes me out of her grasp at the same time she prods. “How often does she call?”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters because I’m trying to gage what a fucking nightmare I’m about to walk into!”
“Oh, a big one,” I smugly state. “One so big that the bonus you’re eyeballing won’t be worth it.”
A cluster of what I think are swears linger behind her gritted teeth prior to her asking, “How often does she call, Tucker Michael Frost?”
“You know my full name?”
“And your date of birth. Your birth location. And since we’ve been spending so much time together many of your favorite things all of which I keep a running mental list of.”
“Why?”
“That’s what you do when you like someone. You keep tabs on them. Or in my case lists.”
The corner of my lip unconsciously curls upward. “You like me?”
“Well…I don’t not like you,” she saucily sasses. “That’s the same thing, right?”
“You’re lucky I like having your nipples in my mouth.”
A high-pitched squeak reverberates through the hall as the color in her cheeks deepens.
“Anyway,” I arrogantly chortle before continuing, “she calls on my birthday. Her birthday. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Dad’s birthday. And um…his death date.”
“And you only answer your family’s call on Christmas?!”
“I only answer her call on Christmas.” The shrug she’s given is nonchalant. “The rest call and I typically answer as long as I have service and I’m not working.”
“Leonardo have mercy,” she whines while bouncing her delicious figure around, filling my mind with doing things she wouldn’t be begging for mercy over. Predictably, her tantrum jerks cause her to bump her elbow into the nearby wall. “Ou!”
“Careful, June Bug.” Reaching for her hand to resume my leading, I tease, “I don’t wanna have to take you shopping and to the ER in the same day.”
“I’ll have you know I used to be on a first name basis with several of the nurses when I was growing up.”
My response is attached to a light-hearted chuckle. “What a flex.”
“Ohfuckoff,” she snickers in return, demeanor effortlessly transitioning back to the one I’m falling for.
Er.
Enjoy.
That’s what I meant.
I don’t fall in love by traditional standards.
Not sure I ever really have.
“How many times do I have to remind you?” my mother sighs in obvious exasperation. “He hates me.”
“Hate is a strong word,” I emotionlessly announce during our entry. “Albeit an accurate one.” Our arrival instantly collects all eyes in the room, yet it’s the foreign pair, the pair I only know from social media headlines and online news articles that has me unconsciously glaring during my greeting. “Evening everyone.”
My mother’s hands instantly fly to cover her mouth, “Oh my-”
“Ou,” June squeaks thanks to accidentally tripping over the chair leg we should be passing.
Rather than inch us closer to the people I want to be far from, I take the interruption in Mom’s exclamation as a sign from Fate to sit here.
Closer to the exit.
The escape.
Pulling out my date’s seat is attached to a flirty, “Stop putting new bumps and bruises on you. I only want you covered in ones that came from fun things.”
My waggling eyebrows deepen the cherry color already coating her cheeks. “Sh.”
“Did you just shh me?” I tease between snickers, relieved to be painted in her warmth rather than the coldness in the room. “Like a naughty docent?”
“I can’t believe you came,” Mom airily croaks.
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”
Instinct encourages the woman I barely got more than my last name from to creep her chair closer to me.
To reach her shaky hand over and touch me.
Hold me.
Do all the things a mother should when she hasn’t been in the same room with her son for years.
However, if she attempts even one of those things we’re leaving.
June’s bonus be damned.
“And you…brought…a…date,” she struggles to spout, incredulous glance thrown June’s direction.
“Oh,” Aunt Brandi tosses a loose hand her sister’s direction, “that’s not a date. That’s just Juniper.”
