Instead, I saw Matt and Hensley kissing.
70
Matt
“Idon’t understand what you see in her.”
“David,” my mom hissed at my father.
I was confused. Was my mom actually taking my side?
“If you like her, that’s all that matters,” my mom assured me.
I stopped and looked between my parents, suspicious.
“See, Diane,” my father said, turning to gaze at me with a flat stare. “I told you he was too smart to fall for your psychobabble.”
“It’s basic human psychology,” my mother insisted. “If we tell him dating Merrie is a terrible idea, he’ll just double down. He doesn’t actually like her; he’s doing it for attention. We just have to not react when he throws his food at the wall.”
“I’m not a toddler,” I snarled at my mother. “And I care very much about Merrie.”
“You don’t,” my mother insisted. “You’re upset about Hensley, which is understandable, but you need to remember that you love her. You proposed to her. You want to marry her.”
“That was until she cheated on me.”
“People make mistakes.”
“It wasn’t a mistake! It went on for months!” God, my fucking parents.
“She’s sorry,” my mom insisted. “I invited her here to the party so you two could make up. I’m sure Merrie will understand if you return to the love of your life.”
“I have no intention of that,” I said through gritted teeth.
My father pounced on my stress. “Merrie’s using you, son. You know that. You spent how many tens of thousands renovating her little bakery? What else are you paying for, hmm? An apartment for her, perhaps? A car note?”
I refused to answer. But that was all the answer my father needed.
“You’re my son,” he said smugly. “That means you’re not stupid. You know this girl is not worthy of you. Hensley comes from a good family. She’ll make the perfect wife.”
“You just want me to marry her because you’re friends with her parents, and you want to use that to control me,” I snarled.
“You sound hysterical,” my mother said, her dismissive tone grating against me.
And this is why I stay far the hell away from my parents.
“I need to talk to Kevin.”
“You can’t just end the conversation because it’s forcing you to think about things you don’t want to admit we’re right about,” my father chastised. “Honestly, you’re spending too much time around Belle.”
“Did she ever get back together with that Svensson brother?” my mother asked, slipping the question in like a knife.
“That’s none of your business,” I retorted. “I didn’t come here to see you. I need to talk to Kevin Kramer.”
“So demanding,” my mother said. “You’re like a little puffed-up kitten.”
I fucking hate my parents.
Diane led me through the partygoers.
