Probably.
She talks—talkedto me constantly about Josh being the thing that completed her life. She thinks marriage is the best.
I stab a potato and don’t look in Abby Nora’s direction. “I can find a studio if I want toart.”
“But do you want to go to that effort, sweetheart?”
“Art studios will have other artists that I can ask for advice since I’m out of practice at arting.”
I don’t thinkartingis a word.
Though, if I switched into Italian, they might have a word for—no.
Nope.
No switching to Italian words.
Then I’mshowing off.
“We can look for a house that has an art studio and public gardens nearby,” Niki says. “I showed a lovely four-bedroom south of downtown just last week that had a ladies’ paint night shop just a few blocks away. And I heard they’re expanding to offer pottery wheel classes.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of options for what I want in a city this big,” I say.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise like someone’s watching me, and it takes every ounce of determination to not look around the dining room to see if Abby Nora has spotted me.
“The sooner you find it, the better,” Mom says. “I’m worried about you in that hotel. I wish you’d move in with us while you look for a house.”
I lift my brows at her.
She blushes.
We both know what else I won’t say out loud in front of Niki today.
I don’t move in with people who walk around naked every Tuesday.
I’ve heard people say Mom married Roland for his money, but it’s not true.
Whenever anyone implies that in my presence, I promptly inform them she married him for his dick just to make them uncomfortable.
But the truth is, she found the love of her life when she met Roland. She would’ve married him regardless of the size of his house and bank accounts.
If anything, the money made her more uncomfortable at first.
It would’ve made me more uncomfortable if I hadn’t had Abby Nora.
And now my throat is getting tight.Dammit.
“I’m used to living in a cabin the size of a dorm room,” I remind Mom and Niki. “With a roommate. I don’t need a big house. I just need a house that feels right.”
“Don’t discount that a house with room to grow could feel right. What if you want more—art hobbies? Art. Hobbies. Collections. What if you want a dog? What if you open a catering company and you need a good home kitchen before you have the cash to buy an industrial kitchen?”
“Then I’ll move.”
Mom sighs.
I sigh.
My phone buzzes, and I subtly check the text message under the table while Mom and Niki ignore me to discussthe benefits of a large house in one of Copper Valley’s most expensive neighborhoods.
