Funny how knowing that made her feel just a little less achy. Despite their devotion to each other, she’d never felt left out. They loved each other, and they loved her—even if Ava felt compelled to show her affection through criticism.
“We’re skipping cocktails tonight,” her mother said. “What with you on pain medication.”
“Thanks, Mom, but you and Dad can go ahead. Believe me, I’m not tempted.”
“We’ll be fine,” her father told her.
The fancy, upscale air fryer dinged. Ava used tongs to put chicken pieces on a platter while Milton carried the salads to the table. Victoria maneuvered herself into a standing position and hop-stepped to her chair. She sank down and wished everything didn’t hurt so much. Bodies were not meant to be flung out of trucks.
They sat at one end of the large dining room table. Breakfast and lunch were eaten in the kitchen, but dinner was served more formally. It had always been that way. Victoria glanced around the spacious room, taking in the antique sideboard and the framed artwork, all original. However had the house survived her childhood? She knew she’d been whatever was more than a handful. She had a vague memory of throwing food and refusing to eat anything but mango and chicken nuggets for weeks.
Her mother started to pass her the caprese salad, then hesitated. “Is this going to be too heavy?”
“Let’s find out.”
Victoria reached for it and felt a sharp stab in her upper back. Her pain must have shown on her face because her mother was instantly on her feet and circling the table.
“Never mind. I’ll serve you.”
“Mom, you don’t have to.”
“Apparently I do.”
Victoria stared at the chicken thigh, the scoop of avocado and jicama salad, along with a slice of tomato with mozzarella. She knew from experience everything would be delish, but the thought of eating made her stomach churn.
“Thanks, Mom,” she murmured, wishing she’d stayed in bed. This food thing was overrated. Still, she knew she had to fuel her body to heal and forced herself to slice off some chicken.
Her parents chatted about their respective days. She didn’t listen past the headlines. The familiar sound of their voices was enough. She wondered if that would ever change, if she would get to the point in her life where listening to them talk wasn’t soothing. Maybe when she’d been on her own longer than a couple of years.
“You’re welcome to have your friends come by,” her mother said, drawing her attention back to the conversation. “It’s not a problem.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’m only going to stay a few days.”
“You’ll stay until you’re better,” her father said firmly. “There’s no need to rush back to your condo. You need someone looking after you.”
She wanted to protest that she was fine, but her inability to pass the salad kind of destroyed that argument.
“I appreciate the support,” she said instead, thinking once she could breathe without pain she would be ready to return to her place.
“Are you seeing anyone?” her mother asked. “Romantically?”
Victoria shook her head. “You always ask.”
“I’m interested in my daughter’s life.”
“You want to pair me off. Mom, it’s not going to happen. We’ve discussed this a million times. I don’t do relationships, I do sex.”
“Victoria.” Her father’s voice had the mildest edge to it.
“Dad, I didn’t start this, and it’s not like you and Mom don’t have sex. You’re too crazy about each other not to. It’s a normal, biological function and one I happen to enjoy.” She looked at her mother. “There’s no special guy. Not now, not ever.”
Her mother exhaled slowly, as if telling herself to be patient. “Don’t you want someone in your life? Someone to care about you? I don’t understand how you can be so comfortable having meaningless encounters with men you’re never going to see again.”
“I see a lot of them again.” She paused. “Well, if they know what they’re doing. Otherwise, no.”
“Victoria, you’re twenty-four. Don’t you think it’s time to start thinking about your future? Right now age-appropriate young men are everywhere, but in a few years—”
Victoria held up her hand. “Stop. Fifteen-minute rule.”
