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"Has no gas!" Aunt Jenny squeaks.
"No gas," Uncle Kyle shrugs as Aunt Jenny smiles at him. "It has no gas."
"You two are the worst liars," Liam rolls his eyes. "We all know what you were doing."
"I don't know what they were doing," Bea, my niece, speaks up. "What were they doing?"
Aunt Jenny's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.
"They were trying to get the car out of the garage," I tell her. "That's all."
Aunt Jenny mouthsThank youto me before most of the table heads over to the buffet. Mom grabs Brianna and I stay behind with Dad, Aunt Jenny, and Uncle Kyle.
"How's the job search going?" Uncle Kyle asks. His cheeks are still flushed with embarrassment, but I find it endearing. I'm in this weird post-breakup purgatory where the idea of true love repulses me while simultaneously giving me hope. The hope that someday, someone might love me the way Uncle Kyle loves Aunt Jenny. Obsessively, reverently, intensely.
"It's going slow," I admit. "My options are limited because I want to be home with Brianna in the evenings."
"I know it's not much," Uncle Kyle shrugs, "but we're looking for a receptionist on Saturday mornings."
Touched by his thoughtfulness, I smile. "I'll consider it."
"We can always fire Mia," Aunt Jenny jokes as her eyes land on her eldest daughter at the buffet. "She's bossy."
I laugh. "The Gallery is her dream. You can't take it away from her."
"She's trying to phase us out," Uncle Kyle leans forward. "She told us we aren't allowed to come into work on Mondays."
"Sounds nice," I smirk.
"We should retire," Aunt Jenny places a hand on Uncle Kyle's back. "Then, we can travel."
"We still have Emmy at home," he reminds her.
"Where is Emmy?" Aunt Jenny glances around.
"She stayed late at the Tutoring Center last night," Uncle Kyle groans. "She's sleeping in today."
"Must be the boy," Aunt Jenny shakes her head. "I remember those days."
As Uncle Kyle and Aunt Jenny start down memory lane, I notice Dad is staring at me.
I swallow hard beneath his watchful gaze.
"Something wrong?" I ask him.
"I have a job opening for a fitness instructor," Dad nods. "You can teach classes and bring Brianna with you."
"I...can't," I chew on my lip. "I don't know anything about teaching fitness classes. And you're already putting a roof over our heads and feeding us. I can't ask for more. It's not right."
"You are my daughter," Dad says with conviction. "Whatever you need, it's yours."
"I don't feel right about taking a job I'm not qualified for," I scratch the back of my neck. "The job should go to someone who can do it."
"You can do it," Dad scoffs. "You just have to come up with some dancing exercises. It's not that hard. Mom can help you."
I ball my fists in my lap beneath the table. "I don't want more help. You're already doing too much. I will find a job on my own."
"Like you found a husband on your own?" Dad snaps. "We all know how that ended."
