Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
“What?” I roll my hand, signaling to get on with it.
“He stepped up behind her and heard some of it.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“You really didn’t like him, did you?” I ask. “Sure did a good job of hiding it.”
She lifts one shoulder. “I had reservations. But, it was your life, your decision. Just because I didn’t think he was right for you doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to support your right to make your own decisions.”
“And? What’s your opinion of him?” I ask, feeling my face get hot, thinking about my friends and family all hating the man I planned to marry. What would that have said for my social life afterwards? I’m a strong, independent woman, but I love my support system; I need a support system.
Though, a few of them tried, with Ivy that one night to get me to see sense, I guess. I blew them all off, though, didn’t I? I didn’t want to hear it, so I guess I just didn’t.
“And you’re better off without him,” Mom goes on, “His mother and that wedding planner woman met him there right as we were about to leave, and that Carla was rude to me, as usual.”
“As usual?”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t want to moan about it before, you know I’m not a big complainer, but the entire time I’ve known Rick’s mother, she treats me like she’s better than me.”
“She’s like that with everyone,” I mutter.
“And today? Well, let’s just say she was even more unpleasant than usual.”
“What happened?”
“I killed her with kindness of course, like I always do.”
“What did she say?”
She waves her hand. “Just mutterings about you calling off the wedding suddenly, about the inconvenience to their family and friends. How she doesn’t understand how you could do this after they’ve been so good to you.” Mom rolls her eyes. “How she hopes I’ll talk sense into you before Rick realizes he can do better. Those people think their shit doesn’t stink.”
Mason is back, two stacked boxes in his arms. He sets them on the floor.
I call out, “Wait. You don’t-”
He smiles, spins to give me his back, and is gone.
I sigh, massaging my temples.
Mom is silent now. And looking a little contrite.
“Mom,” I grumble, “Not to gloss over the Carla shit, I’m really sorry that anybody made you feel like you were beneath them. They’re the assholes. But for real here… why would you bring my stuff over here?”
She tries to hide the mischief but it’s glaringly obvious.
“Unless you’re just expecting me to stay here,” I continue, “to be okay with all this?” I gesture to the room at large.
“I think that’s fairly obvious. Of course I’m okay with this. The question is why aren’t you okay with this?”
The coffee machine beeps, announcing the pot is full, so I move over and pour into two cups that Mason had pulled down.
I put sugar in Mom’s. He’s back with two more boxes. He sets them down.
“How do you take your coffee, Doggo?” I call out, not even trying to mask my aggravation. I feel my mother’s eyes on my back, but I studiously ignore her.
“Just black, thanks baby.”
“Don’t bother bringing in any more of my stuff.”
He flashes me a grin and then he’s gone again.
He’s not listening to me. Mom’s not listening to me, either.
I growl out my frustration.
Mom grabs my hand. “Amie.”
I spin to face her.
“What’s wrong? What’s stopping you here?”
I stare in astonishment and thrust my hands into my hair. “Nobody’s listening to me. I wanted you to put my stuff at your place.”
“I’m moving, Amie. This man, this house, it’s all incredible. And it’s yours, sweet girl. All yours.”
“Or put it in my storage unit,” I say through clenched teeth, giving her a sharp look.
“It’s full.” She shrugs.
“Then why didn’t you ask me what to do with it? Why didn’t you stick it in the garage at home and then ask me?”
“Well, I needed the house ready for the open house. I thought maybe I’d take it to my new apartment if needed but the minute I pulled up, I knew it belonged here. Look at you with all this color in your cheeks, sparkle in your eyes.” She shrugs. “This is home for you. Isn’t it?”
“Nothing has changed since our earlier conversation. Mason is being obstinate, but…”
“Who’s being obstinate?” Mason asks, coming in with two trash bags.
Mom giggles. “I think we know the answer to that.”
Eesh.
He drops the trash bags and I hear a clunk sound.
“What was that?”
“Probably shoes. Hope you’ve got room in your closet, Mason. My daughter is not only a clothes horse, but her shoe collection? I wouldn’t say it rivals Imelda Marcos, but it’s quite impressive.”
“Plenty of room in my closet, Kathleen.”
I roll my eyes.
“We put the delicate things into the boxes. Caroline and Sally want you to call them, but I told them it might be a minute. Or a week.”