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I scowl.
Space my backside. Mama doesn’t even know the meaning of the word.
“Ooh,” Aunt Linda stares at my dress, “you look nice, Liz. Were you just with him?”
“Um…”
“Of course she was, Linda. You think my daughter’s a liar?”
Yes. I’m a liar. A huge, shallow liar!
Mom grabs my arm and jerks me down. “There are rumors flying all over the family that you made him up,” she whispers hotly in my ear. “It’s insulting. We both know you’re not that pathetic.”
I wince.
Leaning back, Mama says loudly. “Let’s move this to the living room. Give me your phone.”
“Now? Don’t I get to warn him first?”
“Oh, he won’t mind.” Mama drags me across the room.
Panic fills my chest.
No.
This is going to be a huge disaster.
“What’s his name?” Mama asks, scrolling through my phone.
Sweat beads on my forehead. On my upper lip. In my bra.
Mama’s brown eyes zoom in on my face.
All my aunts crowd me, silently judging.
“Elizabeth…”
“Brogan!” I blurt. “My boyfriend’s name is Brogan.”
Five
Brogan
I’m on my laptop, scrolling through Russian mail order bride sites and finding more porn than legitimate businesses when my phone rings.
With a sigh, I reach over to where I have it charging on the nightstand. Pick it up. Stare at the screen.
Elizabeth.
My brain sends no signals.
Suddenly, her face comes to mind.
Brown eyes.
Brown skin.
Big smile.
