We sat in silence. Mom looked from The Brick House to me, and I gave her space to decide what she wanted.
Mom exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing the edge of the flyer. “I don’t know.” She looked at the building again, then at me, eyes unreadable. “I’m still so mad at you.”
“I know.”
“Is there really a chance to win a trip to Spain?” She pinched her nose with her thumb and forefinger.
“Yeah. They have a bunch of themed rooms of different locations and each has prizes.” I wiped errant tears with the palms of my hands. “I think you could love it, but wish I had just called and talked to you about it instead.”
She pinched her lips. “To make it up to me, you will go on a date with the next person who asks, and you will give it a chance.” She raised her brows, challenging me to refuse.
I nodded in defeat. “Sure. That’s fair.”
“No. That’s not even close to fair.” She pointed at me. “There will be more.”
“Yep. Okay.” I nodded.
Silence stretched between us as I waited for her decision.
She let out a long sigh. “Fine. But only because I want to use these tickets. And you owe me.”
I nodded.
“And Em…”
I looked at her blue eyes.
“Never again.”
“Never again,” I repeated and I meant it with every part of me.
“And…I’m not here to date.”
I nodded, I didn’t even care about her dating anymore. I just didn’t want her upset with me.
“And you are coming in with me to see me waste all your money,” she said with a sassy grin.
“Okay.” I grabbed my ball cap from the back seat, and climbed out of the car. Walking to the other side, I threaded my arm through Mom’s elbow and rested my head on her shoulder.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered.
“It’s true.” She bumped into me. “Not your proudest moment.”
I nodded in agreement. “Very true,” I acknowledged. I saw the teenager poised in front of the doors again, scanning tickets. “Um, in the spirit of being honest. It says I have to be over fifty to come in.” I pressed my lips together and flinched a little.
Mom stopped walking and turned to meet my eyes. “The makeup from before…”
“Yep,” I said, nodding and then pointing to the hat, “and the hat…” I placed it on my head.
She sighed. “Well, I guess you will just have to figure it out,” she muttered under her breath. “I will give it to you. You’re nothing if not creative.”
Luckily the same teen couldn’t care less as she scanned our tickets.
Now I just had to not get caught by Mr. Muscles or Darian Cole.
I tugged my hat down and looped my arm through Mom’s, focused on keeping my head lowered.
Chapter Six
