Talking about your family is part of dating, but how would Jameson react if I told him just how quirky my mother really was?
“Aurora, I just told you I grew up in a cult that spent most of its time plotting to kill non-existent monsters. I think I can handle the quirks of your mom,” Jameson says while reaching for my hand again.
I pull my hand back, tucking both into my lap, and scrape at the raw skin around my thumb, letting the sting settle me.
Something’s wrong.
Not dangerous. Not yet.
But something’s wrong.
It’s no secret my mom had quirks. But should I really be sharing them with someone who just admitted he grew up in a cult?
“I mean, I still think monster-hunting cult beats out my mom’s quirks, but you have to promise to keep an open mind.”
“I promise,” Jameson says, like an oath, as he places a hand over his heart. The gesture is so sweet and goofy that I start to thaw just a little toward the big galoot.
“Okay.” I lean over the table, so the entire restaurant doesn’t hear what I’m about to say.
Jameson leans in too, his deep brown eyes alive with curiosity.
“My whole life, until her death, my mother claimed she could speak to my Gram, who had been dead for twenty years. Gram would help her find things, chat with my mom late into the night, and send me messages that my mom would pass along, like, ‘Great job on that math test!’ or ‘I really enjoyed your piano recital tonight!’ Gram was a huge part of my life growing up. I just never physically saw her.”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I shrug my shoulders. Now that I said it out loud, I wish I could shove every fucking word back into my mouth.
“I think that’s really nice, Aurora. Your mom must have loved you a lot to go to all that effort. Did that make things hard for you? Did you feel like an outcast?”
Whoa, buddy. That’s a little “pot calling the kettle black” for someone who grew up in a monster-hunting cult.
“No, I wasn’t an outcast. I had lots of friends growing up, and they all knew she talked to my gram. No one seemed to mind because they loved her so much.”
It’s moments like these when I really miss my mom.
She wasn’t just my mother—she was the gravity holding everything together.
And without her, I still don’t know which way is up.
Jameson nods his head as if he understands everything I’ve just said.
“Is that it?”
His head tilts, a too-wide smile plastered across his face.
“Come on, Aurora. There’s more, isn’t there?”
More? What the hell does he mean by that?
“Um, no. Nothing else comes to mind.”
“Seriously? You can’t think of anything else?”
His voice tightens, calm on the surface but carrying something darker underneath. It’s subtle, but it makes something slimy shift in my gut.
“Yes, Jameson. That’s it. Sorry, my mother’s silly little quirk isn’t enough for you.”
Well, fuck this guy, too!
I cross my arms and glare at him across the table. His features soften, and his body relaxes when he sighs.
