I stare at her, feeling sick. “While I appreciate the offer, and I love that you are thinking of me, it’s obvious you are a tad confused because I am absolutely a terrible fit.”
“Answer’s no, Mum,” Sofia says and folds her arms under her breasts.
Lorelei takes her time setting her coffee cup down and lifting her gaze to pin us with a truly terrifying look.
“How would Devon like to know his omega is displaying his ancient underwear as a trophy to the world?”
Sofia’s jaw drops. “How do you know about that?” she whispers in horror.
Julia looks at me. “You have too many secrets; we just need to throw a dart with a blindfold on, and we’ve got you by the balls.”
“Don’t have balls,” I say sulkily. This isn’t fair. I don’t want to do this.
“They do. Big hairy ones. Wrinkled and gross,” Sofia mutters, leaning back in the chair as if getting away from our mothers will save her.
I snort a laugh.
“Sofia!” Lorelei snaps.
“Aw, Mum. You don’t understand, I’m not a matchmaker. That’s not what I do.”
“No, you are an observer. You watch people. You assess who they are and learn how to give them what they want.” Lorelei turns to me. “You know romance. I’ve read your books; you aresweet and charming, and your dates won’t go too far but will be creative.”
I groan. We’re already locked in, and they are just waiting for the official yes.
“We don’t really have a choice, do we?” Sofia sinks down into the mustard-coloured couch.
“Nope,” she says, making the p pop with all the attitude of a happy mum who just won the argument of the year.
I look up at the ceiling and wish I hadn’t entered the bookshop this morning.
“Okay, well, that’s all we wanted. We’ll leave you to your day.”
“That you butchered!” I hiss under my breath.
They stand up, beaming at each other.
“We didn’t say yes,” Sofia shouts.
“Yes, you did!”
With that, they leave in a cloud of satisfaction that smells like roses.
“That was mean and evil.”
“That was so evil,” I agree. “Want a drink?”
Sofia nods, stomps behind the counter, and comes out with a bottle of coffee-flavoured liquor.
“A drink to bolster our spirits.”
We drink straight from the bottle.
I hold it and scowl. “A drink to the evil demons our mothers are.”
We drink again.
And we keep going, trying to forget, until we’re giggling and helplessly sitting on the floor, laughing, as Fox and Elijah pick the lock on the bookstore door and ask just how much we’ve had.
