“I can keep my lips closed.”
I stare at her because we both know that’s a lie.
“Icando it if it’s necessary. I don’tliketo do it, but I can, Oli.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Mom rolls her eyes as she lifts the coffee to her lipsand blows across the top. “Invite her over for dinner this weekend. For me. Please,” she begs, knowing I find it hard to say no to her anytime, let alone when she gives me those puppy-dog eyes.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll ask her if she’s free.”
“She can pick the night.”
Damn. She’s trying everything in her arsenal to make sure she meets Lulu sooner rather than later. “I will.”
“Hey. Hey. I’m here,” Liam announces as he walks through the front door. I groan as he kicks off his shoes. “Sharla wasn’t feeling well, so I came alone.”
“Good,” Ma says, “Not about Sharla, but that you’re here. There’s something I want to talk to both of you about.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask her, ignoring my brother as he stalks into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee too.
“We’ll wait for your brother.”
I point at him.
“Fine,” she says with a sigh. “Randall and I are working on our wills.”
My stomach turns. I hate talking about death. It’s like I’m mentally allergic to the topic and have been since I was a little kid.
“You’re too young for that shit,” Liam says to her as he sets down his black coffee on the table and takes a seat.
“Baby,” she turns toward him and smiles, “I’m not young. I don’t know how many years I have left on this planet?—”
“No one does,” I tell her. “But why now?”
“I had a little health scare,” she says, like she’s talking about the weather and not something more serious. “But everything’s fine.”
“What the hell, Ma?” Liam says with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want you two to worry.”
She’s been that way her entire life. The only things she’s good at keeping secrets about are herself and her health. The woman is a nosy open book otherwise, but as soon as it involves her well-being, she’s tight-lipped.
“I'd rather know than be blindsided,” I tell her.
“If the tests would’ve come back with something bad, I would’ve told you then, but there was no need for all of us to worry until I knew for sure.”
“So, you worried alone?” I ask.
“No. I had Randall.”
Liam grunts. “He’s about as sincere as an alley cat, Ma.”
“Oh, stop.” She swats Liam’s arm. “You know Randall loves me and worships the ground I walk on. I couldn’t have asked for anything more from him while we waited for the tests to come back.”
Randall isn’t a bad dude. He’s obsessed with money, but so many people are these days. He’severything you’d think of when picturing a car salesman. Everything is about the deal unless it has to do with my mother. He’s always been sweet to her, something our biological father didn’t seem capable of doing.
“Anyway,” she says, reaching over to the counter and grabbing a stack of papers, “we’re finalizing our wills—I mean trusts. I keep getting that wrong. Trusts are for fancy people, and Randall says we need them.”
