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“It’s just that…” Another long pause.
“What?” Alanna snapped.
“You’re not exactly the nurturing type,” Dede murmured. “That’s more of…”
Don’t say it. Don’t you DARE say it.
“…more of what Layla is good at.”
Alanna gripped the phone so hard her knuckles ached. “Listen up, Mom. I AM going to care for you AND I’m going to be good at it!” She jabbed her finger in the air for emphasis.
“There’s my Queen of Sheba,” her mother said with resigned affection.
God, how long had it been since her mother used that nickname on her?
Dede seemed to collect herself. “Alanna, if you want to stay for a few days, I would love to have you. It’s been too long since we’ve spent some real time together.”
“Good, then it’s settled,” Alanna announced, still suspicious.
“Absolutely. I love you, honey. And maybe, uh, drink some water?”
“Love you too,” Alanna murmured and hung up. She sat back and crossed her arms. The nerve of her mother to question her fitness to be a caregiver! After all, hadn’t Alanna been the one to buy her mom that hazardous house in the first place? It was the first actual house her mother had lived in since she’d fled the worthless sperm donor Alanna would never consider a father.
Alanna glanced around and was surprised at how the room swayed. Where was that cutie in the glasses?Oh. Right.She’d baptized him in malbec.Whoops. Hadn’t even gotten to apologize before Hue the lout had distracted her. No wonder the guy had made a beeline for the door.
But shehadmeant to apologize. She was a caring person. She had all the cares. But then why couldn’t she get her mother’s voice out of her head?
You’re not exactly the nurturing type.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Alanna nurtured plenty of things. Her business. Her Mercedes GT. She took Stella to get her oil changed like clockwork.
“Everything going okay over here?” The chocolate-haired server stopped at her table and eyed the nearly empty wine bottle. “Looks like someone’s on a mission.”
“Let me ask you a question, Jane,” Alanna said.
“It’s Jax but go ahead.”
“Do you think I’m a caring person?”
“You sure cared about that bottle of wine,” Jax answered. “You’re not driving out of here, by the way.”
Alanna waved off her concern. “Course not. I’ll grab an Uber, but you didn’t answer my question. Here, look at this.” Alanna grabbed her phone and, after hitting a few wrong apps, finally opened Instagram. She scrolled, foundthepicture, then shoved the screen at Jax.
“See!”
Jax took the phone and studied the picture Layla had posted to Instagram this morning showing off her handsome fiancé and two new kittens. Pulling the lollipop from her mouth, she said. “Gotta admit that I’m not really a cat person. Also, any unironic use of #princecharming needs to never happen under any circumstances.”
“RIGHT?” Alanna crowed. “That’s my sister. She’s purrrfect.” Alanna laughed. “Did you hear what I said? I didn’t even mean to do that.”
Jax switched her lollipop to the other side of her mouth. “And here I thought you were this sophisticated out-of-towner.”
“I am so-fist-kated. So-fist-kated as shit,” Alanna proclaimed. “But read the comments under the picture. Everyone thinks Layla is an angel. See!” She jabbed at the screen. “One of the comments is just 10 halo emojis… or is that 11?”
Jax shrugged. “Why do you care?”
“Because I’m a nice person, too,” Alanna insisted and took a swig of wine from her glass. “My own mother thinks I’m not nur-churrrr-ing.” Damn, when did that word get so many syllables? Alanna plowed on. “But I am nur-ring-ring. I’m not like Chip. I own a plant, you know.”
No need to mention said plant’s recent regrettable decline in health.
