“What about you?” I hastily asked, trying to shift the focusoff me. “How’s work?”
She launched into a monologue about yoga class, her new friend Sheila and how she’d finally learned what a podcast was. I chimed in when necessary, smiling at all the right moments, even though she couldn’t see me.
“Tori?” she said eventually, more softly. “You sound … tired.”
I forced a chuckle. “That’s college, Mom.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
Yeah. Just drowning in paperwork, misery, and student debt, all while pretending I haven't let myself start to care for a man who's guaranteed to leave.
“Totally.”
There was a pause. She didn’t quite buy it, but she let me keep up the pretense anyway.
“Alright. Call me when you find the time, sweetheart.”
My throat closed.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
So I lied instead.
“Of course.”
She exhaled, comforted by a promise I probably shouldn't have made.
After we said our goodbyes and the line went dead, I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window in my bedroom and took a shaky breath, swallowing everything I couldn’t afford to feel.
Because this was my mess.
Chapter 11
Tori
WhywasIdoingthis again?I must be out of my fucking mind for even considering such a thing.
I’d talked myself out of it multiple times over the last couple of days, and yet here I fucking was, coming off a fucking double shift at theNeon Possumand running on five hours of sleep. With a huff, I shook my head slightly and chewed on the inside of my cheek.
Setting one foot in front of the other, I crept toward the kitchen and stopped to listen for suspicious sounds again. Straining my ears, I tried to locate Gran’s whereabouts, but I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.
Maybe I was lucky and she was busy out in the yard. My bare feet padded against the hardwood as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, only to freeze dead in my tracks.
God-fucking-damnit.
Lo and behold, there she was, already waiting for me. Her red lipstick was immaculate, her gold rings were sparkling on her fingers, and her hair was perfectly styled, even though it was barely 8 A.M.
Curse this woman for being able to sense mischief from three fucking rooms away.
“How did you even know about this?” I huffed out as I watched her tie an apron around her waist, grinning smugly. Then I did a double take. “Does the apron say ‘Hot Stuff Coming Through’?”
“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” Gran beamed.
“Not exactly the word I’d use,” I muttered under my breath, venturing further into the kitchen. “So, what gave me away?”
“Darling, do you think I wouldn’t notice you buying this many eggs? I’m eighty-seven, not blind.”
