Mom never allows us to eat in the living room, yet she seems unbothered by Eric munching away. Maybe Gina was right about favorites.
“Confirms what, exactly?” Gina asks.
“He’s a moron. I always figured he couldn’t walk and chew gum at the same time without his brain short-circuiting.”
“Now, Eric, that’s not nice…” Mom begins, but her voice trails off as she walks away.
Gina stares, mouth agape. “I would’ve been scolded for that.”
“I don’t have to worry about it. I’m the favorite.”
“I knew it!”
“Everyone knows,” Eric smirks.
Snagging a piece of pizza, I bite into it before Eric can stop me. “I don’t really have a reason not to go, do I?”
“You mean, besides the fact she’s marrying the man you were supposed to marry on the day you were going to marry him? No reason at all…” Gina rolls her eyes. “She’s just trying to get attention. She was annoyed she didn’t get hounded for weeks after everything went down.”
“And you coming home overshadowed her engagement. She has to try to reclaim the spotlight,” Eric adds. “Which just proves how much people like you and dislike her.”
I glance between them. “Was it always like this?”
“Yes,” they respond in unison.
Sighing, I lean back and chew. “I’m blind.”
“Pretty much. Speaking of being blind,” Eric says, snatching the last piece before Gina can grab it, “you’ve been spending a lot of time with Asher’s best friend lately.”
I frown. “How does that relate to being blind?”
“Because he’s been in love with you forever, and you pretend not to notice.”
“Oh, she’s not pretending,” Gina interjects. “She genuinely has blinders on and can’t see it.”
“Hey! Why are we ganging up on me?” I protest. “We just keep running into each other. It’s all a series of coincidences.”
“Yeah, those kisses are just coincidences.”
“What kisses?” Eric asks, his brow furrowing.
I shoot a glare at Gina. If she weren’t pregnant, I might actually consider smacking her. Maybe. Probably not.
“Did you just say Harper has kissed Ford?” Mom calls out as she walks into the room.
There’s always been speculation that Mom and Dad eavesdrop on our conversations from the kitchen, but this confirms it. The last thing I need is everyone knowing I’ve kissed Ford. Twice.
“Thanks, Gina,” I say through clenched teeth.
She grimaces, clearly regretting her slip, and mouths an apology as Mom settles onto the coffee table, pushing the empty pizza box aside.
“He’s a good kisser, isn’t he? He seems like he would be.”
The three of us stare in horror. Mom has thought about how good of a kisser Ford is?
“Don’t look at me like that! I don’t want to kiss him, but I think he’d be a good match for you.”
“Well, the first kiss was drunken, and the second one was… well, I think he just feels sorry for me or something,” I attempt to explain.
