Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
How could she miss that information that I’ve given to her every time we have an argument about what I do for a living?
“Do you think you could possibly get them in sooner?” She optimistically asks.
Picking out the green onions from the teriyaki chicken bowl she learned at club this week is done at the same time I answer, “No.”
“Why not?”
All of sudden, Dad’s bowl slides across the table to crash into mine. When I glance up in confusion, he points with his fork to relocate the little green irritants into his food rather than the tiny pile I started on my napkin.
“Because I don’t have that kind of pull, Mom.” I slowly begin to drop the round pieces into their new home. “And besides, Presley runs shit pretty fairly as opposed to favoritism among families, so if there’s no room on the schedule for a few months, that really means there’s no room on the schedule, not that she’s using it like a power play. There’s a reason some people start trying to get their kid enrolled before they’re even pregnant. Employees are the only exception to that and even then, you’re not guaranteed a spot, just more likely if you’re open to signing a longer employment contract.”
The huff that comes out of her is not only loud but aggressive. “What are you doing?”
She receives a questioning glance from me.
“With your food, Jaye.”
“Removing the green onions.”
“I can see that,” she snips in a snarky fashion and picks up her wine glass. “Why?”
“I don’t like them.”
“That’s new,” my mother insists on a small sip.
“It’s not.” Resuming clearing away the last two pieces is followed by me announcing, “I’ve never liked green onions or chives.”
Dad pulls his bowl back to himself. “I fucking love ‘em.”
He’s offered a smile that’s unfortunately cut short by a loud sigh from his wife. “If you don’t like them, why have you always eaten them?”
Valid question.
And for the first time I can recall, I’m okay being honest.
“Because I have people pleasing problem.”
Her eyes as well as Dad’s widen.
“Instead of doing things that please me, I have a habit of doing things that please others, so that I don’t upset anyone because I don’t like upsetting people. And I don’t want people to not like me. However, I am learning – with some emotional support and a couple of self-help books – that it’s really okay to not be the book everyone wants on their shelf. That’s it okay to write or rewrite the details on my own pages.”
Dad’s grin grows impressed on a slow head nod, filling me with excitement, yet the look of almost horror in my mother’s swiftly kills it.
Probably shouldn’t have said that, huh?
“Isn’t being emotionally healthy one of the ways to prevent emotional eating?” I casually point out to defuse her shock. “And you’re always telling me that the reason you think I eat so many cookies is because you think I’m unhappy, so really, this is the type of progress you want for me, right?”
The proclamation shakes lose her momentary stone like state. “You’re right.”
“And I have been eating less cookies.” A forkful of food soars towards my lips. “But baking about the same.”
“Who’s eating my cookies then?” Dad curiously pokes on a quirked eyebrow.
I know what he’s doing. I know exactly what he’s doing. However, I…I don’t know that I should tell them. I mean maybe? Is the right time to announce not only do I have a boyfriend but he’s living with me and has been living with me for months? Should I wait?
“I can tell you for a fact it isn’t Dmitri.” Mom’s gaze forcefully latches onto mine. “What exactly happened? You kept brushing off the subject when I asked for more details. I think now is a good time for them. I mean he seemed so devastated that you two never went on a second date.”
“Devastated,” Dad dramatically echoes, chuckling to himself afterward.
Holding back a smirk requires skill.
See why I love him.
“Was he too pushy? Too brainy? Too self-assured? You know there’s nothing wrong with a man who has confidence, Jaye.”
Archer has confidence. He just also…has insecurities. Like me.
“He just…wasn’t…the right…person.”
Okay, Jaye. Now. Now is the time to tell them.
“You’re never gonna find the right person at the rate you’re dating,” my mother berates causing me to shrink down into my seat.
“Mags,” Dad promptly scolds, “that’s enough.”
Both our sets of eyes swing to him.
“Whatever dude our daughter invites into her life and falls in love with will be done at the speed and pacing that’s best for her. And what’s best for her may not be what you think is best for her. Just like me wanting to do a background check on the dude which I know is best for her, might not be what she thinks is best for her.”